Summer Fall
by ArchitectRed
Summary: Chad Dylan Cooper never expected to fall madly in love with his best friend's sister. But that's what happened that fateful summer when she walked into his life. It was a sweet romance, they kissed in the back row of the movie theater, on the beach at night, even on the quiet streets of her hometown when no one was looking. But can a first love survive past the first summer?
1. Five Years Ago

**Hello, this new story is about the sweet perfect romance of Chad and Sonny. Follow them into their journey. **

**Five Years Ago**

I'm not going to say it was love at first sight when I met her. I don't believe in that. I don't think anyone should. Because love isn't about falling for someone's looks. Though she had that. Believe me, she had that. She was beautiful in every single way, from her dark, wavy hair to her gorgeous brown eyes, to the soft curves of her body. But that's not why I fell so hard for her that summer. She took my breath away for reasons that had nothing to do with her looks. It was the coffee, the movies, the conversations, the popcorn, the walks through the small town, the nights on the beach with the waves rolling in, the way I could hold her hand and feel as if the world had simply melted away and we were all that was left. So, there was no love-at-first-sight. That would come later, and if it happened first it would take away all the reasons that stayed with me for the next five years.

But when I stepped out of the car that fateful day and set eyes on Sunny Munroe, it was more like possibility at first sight.

I saw possibilities unfolding, unfurling before me, and I felt the start of something. I knew it from the way my heart thrummed against my chest, and my mind whirred with thoughts of the next two weeks at her house.

Only, it wasn't going to be just the two of us.

More like the three of us.

Sonny and me. And her brother Juan.

Yeah, that was kind of the problem. You're not supposed to fall for your best friend's little sister.

But really, I had no choice.

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	2. Meeting Sonny

**The story is still about five years ago . I do not own Sonny with a Chance. I forgot to put the disclaimer in first chapter.**

Bruce Springsteen rattled through the stereo system of Juan's car as we turned onto the exit ramp, listening to The Boss as the sun beat down hard through the windshield.

"Man, we need to enjoy these last few weeks of freedom," Juan said. He'd been my roommate throughout most of college at NYU and then during the MBA program. "The Boss would want us to."

"You act like we're in chains. We just have jobs. You know. A J-O-B. That thing you have to get when you finish business school," I joked.

"You do. I don't."

"You have one more interview. You're going to get the gig," I said since he'd been talking to a tech company and was this close to landing a coveted junior position.

"If I get another interview. And I know I'm lucky to even be in the running. But, c'mon, this is the last time we're really free," he pointed out as he slowed at the light.

"Hate to break it to you, but if you were thinking about having two weeks to party, we should have gone to Mexico or something. Not your parents' house to run their store."

Juan laughed. "Okay fine. You got me on that."

"Sounds like they could use a break though," I said, as he turned down the street.

Juan glanced at me, hands on the wheel, a serious look in his eyes. "Yeah, they definitely can. I appreciate you helping my sister and me out. My mom hasn't had any time off since the car accident," he said. His mom had endured multiple surgeries and physical therapy after a car crash two years ago, Juan had told me. She was finally doing better, and to celebrate her recovery, she and her husband were taking a few weeks off at a lake house in Maine. They ran a little gift shop in the tourist town so our role as newly minted MBA-ers was to make sure the operations at their shop, Mystic Landing, ran smoothly. "Its least I can do seeing as how they paid for college and all with that store," Juan said. "And Mystic Landing will be the bank for Sonny to go to NYU too."

Juan had told me plenty about her in the years I'd known him. Well, to the degree that any guy talks about his sister – I knew she loved movies, was whip smart, and liked to make jewelry.

"She's following in our footsteps going to the same school," I said.

"You can warn her about all the professors and classes she needs to avoid."

"That's what I want to do. Spend the next two weeks telling your sister what to do and not do in college," I said dryly.

"Just keep your paws off her," he joked. "That's all I ask."

I held up my hands in surrender. "I've got no plans whatsoever to hit on your sister, but you should know the same applies to you and you need to stay away from Jess."

Juan scoffed. "Your sister is what? Fifteen? And a freshman in high school in California?"

I nodded. My parents lived in sunny Los Angeles, having moved there from the frozen tundra of Buffalo with my younger sister after I left for college. "Yup. But I'm already issuing the official sister warning," I said, and I think we were both joking, but not joking at the same time.

"From the shit my dad told me about Sonny he was having to beat boys off with a stick her last year of high school," Juan said, shaking his head, maybe in frustration, maybe in some perverse sort of admiration.

I wanted to say I'm not surprised. Hell, I'd seen Sonny's picture on Facebook and on his phone. But I'd never given her a second thought. But when we pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, about the only thing I could think about was her.

She flung open the door to the house, and my heart stopped in my throat.

No. Fucking. Way.

It was not okay for Juan to have a sister this beautiful.

There should be rules against this.

Sisters like her should be forbidden.

Her pictures didn't do her justice. Nothing could do her justice. She was the kind of pretty that would erase every other woman in the world.

She ran across the front lawn and launched herself at Juan, while I tried to collect myself, and reorganize my thoughts.

"I missed you, you big knucklehead," she said, wrapping him in a huge hug.

"Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to get sick of me," he said, hugging her back. "You having a good summer before college starts?

"The best," she said, then turned to me as I popped open the passenger side door to the car.

Remember what I said about love at first sight? I'm not going back on my word. It wasn't love. But there was a moment when we locked eyes and just looked at each other. I swear I could feel time slowdown in those seconds, to become nothing more than the heady possibility of two people who maybe, possibly, just might feel some kind of spark. She gave me this look, her dark brown eyes meeting mine, then trying not to look at me, and the thought that she could potentially feel some kind of attraction too nearly knocked me out. I was trying not to be too obvious about checking her out in her purple tee-shirt, jean shorts and flip flops. She had that Ivory Soap feel to her, the kind of girl who didn't need makeup, who could wake up in the morning and look gorgeous from the second she rolled out of bed. Her eyes sparkled and she radiated happiness with a smile that could light up a room.

Or in this case, a driveway.

"Chad, this is my sister Sonny."

I set down my duffel bag and extended a hand, quickly realizing she wasn't a handshake kind of girl, so I wrapped her in a friendly hug. Nothing inappropriate, but damn did she feel good, even down to the metal of her necklace pendant that pressed into my chest. Warm and snug, she smelled like oranges and sunshine. I pulled back before my mind started drifting to tawdrier shores.

"I feel like I know you already. Juan says you're a huge movie fan," I said, trying to keep the conversation on friendly topics. Topics that would remind me how I knew her – through her brother. "That when you're not making necklaces you're at the local theatre. I've always said there's nothing better than skipping class for a matinee."

She flashed a smile at me. "Matinee and popcorn. Doesn't get any better than that."

"But what kind of popcorn?" I wasn't ready to let go of the moment. "Regular? Buttered or kettle corn?"

She rolled her eyes, parked her hands on her hips. "Is that some kind of trick question?"

I arched an eyebrow. She was playful. Kill me now. My kryptonite was a woman who liked to banter. "Maybe it is."

"Obviously. The answer is kettle corn."

We were only discussing popcorn. I knew that. Still, I felt like Hugh Grant in Love, Actually when he meets the woman he falls for on his first day of work, and knows, just knows, that he's a goner.

I'd be fighting a losing battle resisting her. Just like he did.

**I hope you liked the chapter. Please review the chapter**


	3. Favorite Movies and Cartoons

**Thank you for the reviews R, Goof and Nicole and for the follows and favorites as well. Sorry I didn't check the names.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

She's your best friend's sister.

She's heading to college. You're out of college.

You're starting a job in three weeks.

But honestly, only one of those three reasons was truly compelling because the age difference between us was mostly insignificant. So she couldn't drink? So what? She was out of high school and on her way to university. Even the job part wasn't a real issue.

But there's just an unwritten code. You don't mess with his sister unless you're prepared to marry her.

Right?

Because if you break her heart, you're the ass who broke your buddy's sister's heart.

I tried to shake away the thought as we finished our pizza on the deck later that night, chatting about movies.

"What's your favourite movie?" She asked.

"Office Space. Hands down. Best movie ever," I said, smacking my palm on the table in emphasis. "I can watch that over and over."

"Yeah, we're going to need to talk about your TPS reports," Sonny said, quoting the boss character from the film.

"That's just a straight shooter with upper management written all over him," I said, tossing her another line, and she laughed too, flashing me a smile that was damn near addictive. Her smile was like a gage on a thermometer; it made the heat rise in me.

"Okay, those are good. And that movie is a classic. But best ever? For me, it's a total toss-up between Raiders of the Lost Ark and Shakespeare in Love," she said.

I was about to ask why when Juan stood up. "I'll get us more beer," he said, then looked at Sonny and wagged a finger. "But none for you."

She held up both hands and laughed. "I haven't even touched the stuff. I'll have a Diet Coke though."

"Keep it that way."

"I'm going to switch to water or something. Or if you have another Diet Coke that'd be fine," I said.

"Lightweight," Juan muttered jokingly.

"Copycat," Sonny added.

"Fine, you caught me on both accounts," I said, as crickets chirped and the warm night air surrounded us. Why did it have to be a perfect summer night? Everything was colluding to make me fall for her. Like a damn conspiracy.

Once Juan was inside, I turned my focus back to Sonny, trying my best to ignore how hot she looked with the moonlight playing on her face, from her pretty lips to the bare skin on her shoulders since she wore a tank top. Sister, I kept telling myself. She's his sister. I decided to focus on my own sister to keep my mind clean. "My sister Jess is into movies too. She's kind of a walking encyclopaedia of Hollywood. She lives in L.A now so she can tell you pretty much anything about any celebrity."

"So she's a star watcher," Sonny said, stretching her legs out on the lounge chair on the deck.

Look away. Look in her eyes, not at her legs. "She totally has stars in her eyes."

"Is she an actress?"

I shook my head. "No. She's actually an amazing scientist."

"What is she? Like a researcher?"

"She's actually only fifteen," I said, quickly explaining myself. "She just started high school. But she's super focused, and good at school." What the hell? I was sitting here babbling about my kid sister with the most beautiful girl I'd ever met? I wanted to kick myself in the forehead. "I think she already knows she wants to be a doctor."

"So you're twenty-three and she's fifteen," Sonny said, talking like a detective assembling clues.

"Go ahead. Say it."

She laughed. "Okay, let's just call a spade a spade. She's an oops baby right?"

"She has to be, don't you think?" I said as if it were the most scandalous thing in the world.

"Eight years is a lot. Juan and I are only five years apart."

"Does that make you an oops baby?"

"I don't know. I don't want to think about it because I'm pretty sure my parents never had sex. Parents just shouldn't do that. Have sex," she said, slowing down to punctuate that word, and it was a straight shot to my bloodstream. The way she said it, that word travelled through me, and I sure as hell wasn't thinking about parents doing it. Not in the least. I'd been trying to shift gears to safe subjects. But with one joke, and then one word, I was right back in her orbit. Hearing it on her pretty lips was yet another step in making me forget all the reasons why I should stay away from her.

Then I reminded myself. There was not going to be any sex, not at all. There would absolutely positively not be any sex. I had control. I had restraint. I wasn't going to jump Juan's sister.

But a kiss? My brain started whirring with possibility.

After Juan returned, Sonny yawned and passed on the Diet Coke. "I better go to sleep. Since I've got the Mystic Landing morning shift and all. You guys can stay out here and have your guy talk without me. No one needs the little sister around."

I was about to open my mouth to protest and say I did, I definitely did, but she was already gone.

"I'm beat," he said, running his hand through his dark hair, then retreated to his room. The sound of his door shutting echoed through the house, and the hall was strangely quiet for a few seconds as I headed to the guest bedroom, wondering if Sonny was asleep. Look, I wasn't thinking of slinking into her bedroom. It was the first night I was in her house. Even if it was the fiftieth night I wouldn't do that. Sneaking into her bedroom would be the height of tacky.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy when I bumped into her in the hall.

She wore loose shorts and a gray tank top with a pink Hello Kitty across the chest, and I wasn't checking out the illustration so much as I was lingering on what it covered up. More than I should. When I realized what I was doing – staring at her breasts, at their lush curves, and the barest bit of skin showing – I snapped my gaze up. Then I was looking her in the eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes, so pure and such a rich shade.

It was as if I had no choice in the matter. The wagons were circling me, and I was nearly toppled.

She was breaking down all my defences and she didn't even know it. Everything about her was alluring, down to the fact that she wore a cartoon cat to bed. It was cute, it was retro, and it was girly all at once. It also reminded me of my own favourite comic.

"You like Hello Kitty?"

"Uh, yeah," she said, as if she were thrown off by my question.

"That's really cute," I said, trying to hold back a smile.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Definitely. Hello Kitty is totally adorable."

"Wow. Juan never told me his best friend was such a huge fan of cartoon cats," she said playfully.

"I'm personally a bigger fan of Bucky from the comic Get Fuzzy."

"I love that crazy Siamese," she said, and I wanted to ask her out right then and there. She liked Office Space, she knew the characters in my favourite comic strip, and she was completely unaware of her effect on me.

"I defy anyone who doesn't find cats amusing to read that comic."

"That is an awesome challenge. Let's make posters and start a campaign. I'll even break out my Get Fuzzy tee-shirt when we start planning a march to the capital," she said, smiling brightly again, easily picking up the back and forth vibe of our late-night chatter in the hallway. Maybe that's why I said the next thing. Because I wanted her to know. I wanted her to have an inkling that she was already working her way into my heart.

"Generally speaking, I'm good with all cartoon cats," I said, then paused, taking a beat before I said the next thing. "Especially when cute girls wear them."

Her lips quirked up briefly, and before I did what I truly wanted to do – kiss her, ask her out, tell her that even though I'd only known her for twelve hours, was there a chance she was feeling some kind of spark too – I swivelled around and walked off.

I wanted to do all of those things.

So much. Too much.

**Please review the chapter. Thank you**


	4. Coffee and Movie

**Sonny**

I blow dried my hair the next morning.

I rarely blow dried my hair in the summer.

But I wanted to look good in case I ran into Chad again in the hall. Or anywhere really. Evidently, I was going to have to make sure I looked good all the time since he was staying in my house for two weeks. But I was up to that challenge, because hello – hot and sweet guy staying in my house for two weeks.

Lucky me.

As I applied lip gloss, I asked myself once again how it was possible I'd never known that Huan had such a good-looking best friend. They'd been buddies all through college but it had never once occurred to me that the Chad my brother had mentioned was gorgeous, with hair I wanted to run my fingers through, and eyes I could barely look away from – a deep sea blue eyes.

The house was quiet when I left for the store, and I wondered momentarily if Chad was still sleeping. Or if he was an early riser and was out for a morning jog. He looked the type. The guy didn't have an ounce of fat on him, and his arms had the perfect amount of tone to them. Muscled and trim, and with that boyish smile, he was so easy on eyes.

As I walked to the store, I realized his looks weren't the only reason I wanted to make sure I had a good hair day. He was so easy to talk to, and we had an instant repartee from the second he'd hugged me in the driveway. I didn't want to read too much into our connection since he was Huan's friend, even though I couldn't help but hope that he sensed a spark too when we'd been talking about movies out on the deck last night, or even when I bumped into him in the hall.

I popped into my favourite cafe, picturing walking into this shop with him, ordering a coffee drink on a first date. Would he take me out for coffee if he asked me out? No, that was silly. He knew I was fond of movies, and he seemed like the type of guy who truly listened to a girl, the kind who would arrange a date to be exactly what she wanted. We'd go to the movies, and he'd hold my hand at some point as the storyline unfolded on screen.

I smiled at that image. Then I promptly reprimanded myself for thinking of him that way. Even if we had an ease of conversation, even if he was handsome, even if we liked the same things, getting involved with him would be trouble for my heart. I was starting college in the fall, and he was starting the real world. There would simply be no us.

Better to erase those ideas now.

That was easier said than done though because my stomach flipped when I spotted him waiting outside Mystic Landing. He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and the ends of his blonde hair were still wet. Soon, I was near enough to breathe in that clean, freshly showered scent.

"Hi there."

"I'm a morning person too," he offered with a sheepish little shrug. "Hope you don't mind if I share the morning shift with you. Huan'll sleep past noon anyway."

"Not at all," I said as I hunted for the keys in my purse, as if that action would mask the butterflies racing inside me from knowing I'd get to spend the next several hours with him.

**Chad**

I was slated for the afternoon shift with Huan, but hell if I was sticking to the schedule. I figured one of two things would happen the more time I spent with her. I'd learn she was annoying, a pain in the ass, or silly, and all of those would be great because I could get her out of my system.

Case closed, problem solved.

Or I'd discover the opposite. I'd learn that she was just as sweet and funny and smart as I'd already known her to be, and I'd fall harder.

I'd be screwed.

But for some reason, I didn't stop. I walked right into the fire because I was dying to know all the things about her, down to what kind of coffee she drank. I gestured to her drink. "Must have just missed you at the cafe. Coffee, too?"

"Caramel macchiato. Only froufrou drinks for this girl." Then, she inched closer, and she was so near to me I could smell her shampoo, some kind of tropical rainforest scent that made me want to thread my fingers in her hair, back her up against the wall, and kiss her. Right then, right there Forget everything else but the feel of her lips. She dropped her voice to a whisper, like we were co-conspirators. "I even got an extra shot of caramel."

She was playful and flirty, and I wasn't going to miss the chance to keep up that kind of volley. I pretended the added caramel was the height of scandal. "So decadent."

"And you?"

I tapped the lid on top of my cup. "Coffee. Just coffee, nothing more. I like my coffee the way —"

She narrowed her eyes and waved off my remark. "I don't want to hear one of those customary guy jokes. I like my coffee the way I like my women — hot, strong, with cream."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe she thought I'd say something so crass. All my crass thoughts were locked up safely in the far corner of my head. I'd be saving them for another time. "I wasn't going to say that."

"Oh. Sorry. How do you like your coffee then?" She said as she unlocked the door to the store.

Maybe it was because she wasn't looking at me then. Maybe I felt the start of a what-the-hell attitude toward her. Maybe it was because I had a crazy hunch she was the kind of person who had a thing for romantic places that made me answer her in a low whisper, "The way they drink it in Paris. Black."

She tensed briefly, or maybe she shivered. I wasn't going to read anything into her reactions; all I knew was that I was damn glad I was a morning person, and was here with her.

"It's my dream to go there. I want to visit all the boutiques and shops and see all the gorgeous jewelry. I want to be inspired by the designs."

"There is little as inspiring as Paris," I said, and I could picture being there with her, letting time slow down all around us. Just like I'd pictured having coffee with her at the cafe around the corner, now I was picturing kissing her in Paris, because she was the kind of girl who should be kissed by the river.

"Have you been to Paris?" she asked, and her voice sounded wistful.

"Only once. But I'm fluent enough from taking French in school, and the company I'm starting to work for has offices there, so I'm hoping go back," I said as we walked into the store together, and she began straightening up the shelves, unlocking the register, and readying the store to open.

"I want to work for your company. So I can go to Paris too," she said with a wink. Her brown eyes sparkled, like we had another secret.

"I'll go ahead and book a flight. We'll sneak away."

She stopped in her tracks behind the counter, then looked at me, her eyes meeting mine. Had I crossed the line? Shit. I thought I knew her, but the most I knew was how I felt when I was with her. I didn't even know if she had a boyfriend, if I should be flirting with her like this.

"Let's do it. Let's go to Paris. We won't tell a soul," she said in a whisper, her lips punctuating that last word with a beautiful O.

"Wander around the city. No one will know where we are," I said, and it was like a slow dance, and with each step we were somehow swaying closer to admitting what was happening.

"Get lost in Montmartre on a cobblestoned, hilly street."

"Where someone is playing old jazzy music on a phonograph and it floats out the window."

"And then we'd –" she said, but I didn't get to hear what we'd do next because our Paris reverie was broken by the sound of the bell jingling above the door. The first customers strolled in.

Sonny and I immediately segued out of our wanderlust and into business. We stayed like that all through the morning shift, and maybe it was because of our conversation, or maybe it was because we both knew there was this unmistakeable vibe in the air, but everything between us clicked.

We were good together with customers. I talked to a pair of sisters visiting from Missouri who wanted a picture table book of the nautical old sea towns along the Connecticut coast. A little later, she chatted with an older couple who debated which serving plate to buy – the white one with yellow painted flowers, or the green one that was just the right size for asparagus, the woman said.

"How often do you find a plate that's the perfect fit for asparagus?" I chimed in with a smile.

"Hardly ever," the woman said in a cheerful tone. "And that's why we'll take it."

When they left, I turned to Sonny. "We're like a tag team."

"We absolutely are if you can keep doling out those vegetable serving tips," she teased.

When Huan arrived for the afternoon shift, Sonny gave him a rundown of the morning business and crowd. "That all sounds great. Mom and dad will be happy. What are you guys going to do now?"

"I think I might go see a movie," Sonny said. "I know, big shock there."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course. Movie junkie here. Are you going to go to the movies too?" Huan asked me, and I knew he wasn't giving me permission to take out his sister. It wasn't as if I'd said, "Huan, I'm totally falling for Sonny and I want to know if it's okay if we sit in a darkened theater for two hours," but it was as close as I was going to get to some kind of tacit yes. Eventually, I'd say something, I told myself. Just not yet. There wasn't anything to tell him anyway. Once there was something to say, I'd say it. For now, we were two friends going to the movies. Nothing more.

At the local cinema, we perused the list of movies and both picked a Will Ferrell comedy, then she turned to me. "I'm going to be totally honest here. I kind of have a thing for silly humor. Stupid humor. All that stuff. I know it probably doesn't go with the whole I-want-to-go-to-Paris and be inspired by the designs, but sue me. I think Will Ferrell is a comedic genius."

Straight shot to my heart.

"Sonny, I don't know how to tell you this," I said in a mock serious tone. "So I guess I'm just going to be blunt. Will Ferrell is a comedic genius, and the fact that you have recognized this cosmic truth means the kettle corn is on me too."

Her lips curved up and I was pretty sure she could get me to do anything with her smile.

"Lucky me," she said.

"No," I corrected, feeling bold as we were surrounded by the smell of fake butter and the snapping of kernels. "Lucky me."

When the lights went down in the theater, we shared the popcorn, and yes, there were a few moments when my fingers brushed hers and vice versa. Those moments were enough to make me entirely forget the scenes unfolding on the screen because all I was thinking about was how my blood was racing faster, and my skin was heating up from a sliver of a touch.

By the time we left the cinema, the movie was swiss cheese to me. Full of so many holes, that I was faking my way through our post-mortem discussion. I remembered bits and pieces of it; the film was a goddamn slapstick comedy, not a twist turn thriller, but still. My memory of it was comprised of a few good chuckles, and the moments when I wanted to hold her hand to know if this was or wasn't a one-way street. I craved the feel of her fingers sliding through mine, simply because it would be a confirmation that this wasn't all in my head that I wasn't imagining there was something more to the way she seemed to flirt back and to sneak in little glances now and then. All the reasons why I wasn't supposed to fall for her were gone.

At some point that afternoon, I stopped thinking about Huan. Sure, in the back of mind there was that little nagging ball of guilt, a reminder that I'd need to man up and tell my friend I was having very unfriendly feelings toward his sister. But I found it far too easy to ignore that worry because so very much of my brain was occupied with thoughts of Sonny, what she liked, how well we got along, how she laughed at my jokes, how she teased me right back, and how I was going to have to find ways to spend more time with her.

I'd become that guy falling hard for a girl.

That's who I was that week, counting down the hours until our shared morning shift ended, and we went to the theater. It was our routine, our habit, right down to the popcorn, and the seats in the second row from the back. We worked our way through the marquee, seeing a thriller the next day, then catching a sci-fi picture, and after that we saw a movie with talking animals in it, starring a chipmunk as the lead character.

Sonny laughed the whole time, and so did I. The fact that this girl had such a wild sense of humor was another chink in my armor.

When the final credits rolled, she stroked her chin and spoke in a deeper voice, adopting the persona of a pretentious movie critic doing a review show. "You know, Bob, this has shades of that talking raccoon movie that audiences fell in love with years ago. Do you recall John The Chattering Raccoon? It had similar themes, wouldn't you say?"

I nodded as if she were intensely seriously. "Absolutely, Sally. Though I do have to say I feel John brought a bit more pathos to the lead role than the chipmunk did in this picture. A touch more empathy, do you think?"

She pretended to consider my question, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, then returning her focus to me. "Might that have been because John had such a nice mask around his eyes?

Then she cracked up, a deep belly laugh where she placed her hands on her stomach as she laughed, and I couldn't help myself. It was too fun to be with her. "You can't deny the makeup people in John the Chattering Racoon did an excellent job," I said because I wanted another laugh, and I got one.

We returned to our normal voices as we stood up and made our way out of the theater. "You've pretty much seen every movie, haven't you?" I asked.

"I've seen a lot of movies."

"Why? I mean, besides the obvious. That movies are fun. Why are you such a fan of movies? Don't get me wrong. I love them too. But your love is intense."

"Isn't that a good enough reason? Just for entertainment?"

"Totally. So that's the reason?"

"Sure," she said with a little shrug that seemed to suggest there was more to it.

"All right, Sonny Monroe. What's the story?" I asked as we walked down the street, the afternoon sun warming us. I wanted to know everything about her. I wanted to understand her. "Tell me where your love of movies comes from. I mean, where does it truly come from?"

She took a deep breath. "I do love movies for pure entertainment value. But I also love them because they kind of represent family to me, if you know what I mean?"

"Tell me. Why do they represent family to you?"

"All these big events in my life were marked by movies," she said, as we walked past a local art gallery where a guy had set up an easel outside and was painting a vast open sky. "When Huan was in eighth grade and won the election for class president," she began, and my gut twisted the slightest bit from the mention of her brother, but I pushed the feeling aside to listen to her story, "We all went to see the re-release of Raiders of the Lost Ark, because it was this great action adventure, and I gripped the armrest when Harrison Ford raced against the boulder. The time I was picked to design the cover of the junior high yearbook we went to see Ocean's Eleven. That's just how we celebrated things. I even remember when my grandmother died. We went to the memorial service. I was twelve and I read a poem at the service, and then we decided that we should see Elf. Which probably sounds like a weird thing to do after a funeral," she said, lowering her voice a bit as if that was hard to say.

I reached for her arm, resting my hand against it briefly before I pulled away. "No, it doesn't. Not at all."

"It was really the perfect movie to see, because I think we all just needed to not be sad every second, you know?"

"It actually makes perfect sense," I said, and she stopped walking and looked me in the eyes. This time, there was no flirting, no wink and a nod. Just a truly earnest and caring look in her deep brown eyes, as if she were grateful that I'd understood her.

"But I guess it all started with my mom. She's a huge romantic comedy fan, so she started showing me all the great ones. Sleepless in Seattle. Love, Actually. Notting Hill. You've Got Mail," she said and we resumed our pace. I wasn't even sure where we were headed – to her house, to the beach, down the street. But I didn't care. I was with her, and I didn't want the afternoon to end.

"And do you still love romantic comedies?"

"I make jewelry. I drink caramel machiattos. I wear Hello Kitty to bed. Of course I love romantic comedies," she said, and the second she spoke those last few words, I knew I had to seize the moment. To somehow turn these afternoons at the theater into the possibility of a real date. I'd deal with the barriers. I'd find a way to tell her brother. I knew I was treading in dangerous waters, but I was too far gone to swim back to shore.

I cleared my throat. "I think there's a romantic-comedy we haven't seen at the theater. Do you want to go again tomorrow?"

"I have to take care of some things for school in the morning, so I won't be working. Can you do the store solo and I can meet you at the theater?"

"I would love that."

"Me too."


	5. Kisses

**I am very thankful for all the reviews I had from everyone. It makes me smile bright **

**And thank you for marking the story in your favourites.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance **

I couldn't sleep that night. I lay awake staring at the ceiling. The door was shut to the guest room I was staying in, and I was literally practicing the words out loud.

"Hey, Huan. So, buddy, listen. I kind of have a thing for your sister."

Then I'd try to imagine his response, but I came up short. Sure, there was part of me that feared the worst, the No Way in Hell answer. I had to be upfront though and tell him. Besides, he was my closest friend. I wasn't some jerk asking to date her. I was the guy he'd roomed with. But I couldn't be in the same house with him, call him a friend, and willingly head into the cinema with his sister tomorrow knowing I wasn't taking her as Huan's sister. I was taking her as the woman I wanted to date.

I breathed in deeply, picturing the air filling my lungs, giving me the confidence I needed to do the right thing

When Huan burst into the store the next day for the afternoon shift, I was ready. He was grinning from ear to ear, holding up his hands in victory.

"What is it?"

"I got the final interview!" He said, then punched the air.

"That's awesome, dude. I'm psyched for you," I said and clapped him on the back. "When is it?"

"In two weeks. At the advertising technology firm I've been talking to."

"You're gonna nail it. I can feel it," I said, tapping my chest.

"I better. I do not want to be one of those jobless MBAers."

"You're not. You'll be a working stiff like me any day now."

He walked behind the counter to get ready to take over for the afternoon. I gulped. This was the moment. I needed to tell him now. "So I'm heading out to – "

"–How was business today? Everything go okay?" he asked, cutting me off from saying the movies. Then he held up a hand and shook his head. "Wait. Don't tell me. If it was bad I don't want to know. Actually, just tell me everything was great because that's all I want to hear for the next two weeks. No bad news. I only want good happy news that'll keep me in a good happy mood till I nail this job. Okay?"

"Um, sure," I said tentatively.

"That means whenever I come in and ask how business was, all I want to hear is the word great."

"Okay," I said with a laugh. "It was great."

"Nothing to bring me down. Got that?"

The weight in my stomach both lifted and grew heavier. I wanted to tell him. I should have told him. But he needed not to know. I didn't want to be the reason he didn't get the job he wanted.

Besides, Sonny and I were grown-ups. We could handle going to the movies.

Sonny

Kiss Her Now.

I wanted to shout it at the screen. Instead, I said it under my breath as the scene played out in the film. After a missed email, and a missed text, and a missed phone call, the hero and heroine were still on unsure footing. I was damn near ready to walk up to screen, grab the back of his head, and the back of her head and press their lips together.

Except for the little bitty fact that they were only two-dimensional actors on a screen. But I needed them to kiss so badly. I practically wanted to chant it. I could feel their need for a kiss deep in my bones, and all throughout my body.

At last, the hero pushed the button on the elevator, rode up to her floor, marched down the hall, took that deep breath, and knocked hard on the door. When she opened it, her eyes lit up. At last, he'd come to tell her how he felt.

"I'm so crazy for you, and if I don't kiss you now I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life," he said.

"I don't believe in regret. I believe in kisses," she said and the moment their lips made contact, champagne tingles raced through my body, from my cheeks, down to my chest and all the way to my toes, making me feel bubbly and buzzy. My stomach flipped, and my skin felt hot. I stole a glance at Chad, wishing for what they were having on the screen. Wishing for it with him. He was already looking at me and his eyes were searching mine, as if he was checking to see if I was having the same reaction.

"Hi," he whispered in that low and husky voice he used sometimes just with me.

"Hi."

We weren't alone, but the theater wasn't crowded. The nearest patrons were many rows ahead, and that made me feel as if we were all alone in the back. But honestly, even if we'd been surrounded by crowds, I wouldn't have waited. I couldn't wait. I wanted so badly to be kissed by him.

He reached his hand toward me first, and I watched the whole time as if it were happening in slow motion as his fingers slid through mine. My shoulders rose and fell as he made contact, and there it was. The moment that we became more than friends. He kept his eyes on me, and at some point I nodded, as if I were telling him I wanted more, that he had all the permission he'd ever need to do what the hero had done to the heroine on screen. Kiss her deeply and passionately.

With his other hand, he laced his fingers through my dark hair, and I gasped lightly at the feel of his touch. So soft, so warm. So inviting. Then he dropped his mouth to me, his lips brushing gently across mine, and I wanted nothing more than for this kiss to last for the longest time. It was my movie kiss, it was the heroine falling into the hero's arms, it was the world around me ceasing to exist, and all that mattered was this softness, this sweetness, the feel of his lips and his tongue dancing with mine.

I knew then, without a shadow of a doubt, that not only had I never been kissed like this, but that I never would be kissed like this by anyone else. This was the benchmark, the gold standard. Nothing would ever compare.

Maybe that's a crazy thing to think after one kiss from one guy. Or maybe the heart knows best, and my heart and my body wanted him. We had that kind of synch that kind of connection, as if were meant to kiss each other.

Always.

We couldn't stop. We kissed all through the final scene, and on through the credits, and during that awkward moment when everyone else shuffled past us. Finally, when the lights rose, he pulled apart.

Wow," he said, breathing hard.

"Wow indeed."

He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, then rested his forehead against mine. He gripped my hand tighter, as if he were making a very important point. "Sonny, I've wanted to do that since I first met you in the driveway the other day."

"You have?" I ask, and butterflies took flight inside me. Sure, he'd just kissed me like I was his air, but still you want to hear it. I wanted to hear everything from him. I'd fallen so far for him, and I needed him to be there to catch me.

"Yes. You were so pretty, and then you were everything else. I have loved spending time with you. I have loved going to the movies with you and working together in the store and talking about Paris, and everything else."

My heart soared. "I thought you were pretty hot too when I met you. And I've loved all those things too."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "You thought I was hot?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm sitting here in the movie theater making out with you. This is a surprise that I thought you were hot?"

"What can I say? I like hearing it from a beautiful woman," he said.

I blushed, and he ran his thumb over my cheek. "That's adorable that you blushed."

"Stop," I said playfully, and he silenced my protest with a quick kiss. This one didn't last more than five seconds but it felt like the promise of so much more. More kisses, more moments, more than this one.

"But listen, Sonny," he started and I froze, my eyes going wide with fear because sentences that start with but listen don't end well. "Hey, it's okay. I was just going to say I don't think we should mention this to Huan. He's so focused on the job interview right now, and this would only worry him, and I don't want to do that."

"I can keep secrets," I said, and this felt like exactly the kind of secret I'd like keeping. One that made me feel special, and beautiful, and wanted by this gorgeous man who'd strolled into my life unexpectedly. I never imagined I'd have fallen for my brother's best friend, but there it was, happening and I couldn't do a thing to stop it.

Chad

The waves lapped the shore with that calming rhythm of the ocean's night time low tide – a slow sort of whoosh, then the moon pulled the water back out to sea. It was the perfect soundtrack for midnight kissing, and I swear I couldn't get enough of her.

Maybe it's because I knew I wouldn't go any further. Not now at least. Not yet. Kisses were all I'd allow at this point. Not that I didn't want to do everything with her because I did. Every. Single. Thing.

But if anything more were to happen between us, things would need to be on the up and up. I didn't want to be sneaking around I wanted her to be mine officially. For now though, I was more than thrilled to have her stretched out next to me on a blanket on the sand, and I was glad Huan was busy most evenings, from job prep to the occasional date with a woman who worked at the cafe next to the store. I pulled Sonny closer, kissing her harder and deeper, and she responded by roping her arms around my neck and wriggling her sexy little body closer.

Dangerously close. She slid a leg between mine, and I want to yank her under me, pull her hard on top of me. Anything. Especially when she started exploring. She ran her hands over my chest, then down to my stomach, and I groaned, both happy and frustrated. I loved how she touched me, but I couldn't risk going further.

"We have to be careful, Sonny," I said as she reached beneath my T-shirt, spreading her hand across my stomach, her fingers inching closer to the waistband of my jeans. "We can't do more than kiss."

"Why?" she asked, in a borderline pout.

"Because. Because I'm your brother's friend. Because I'm older than you."

"You're only five years older."

"I know. But still," I said, reaching for her hands, hating stopping her, but knowing I had to.

"I'm old enough to know what I want."

"I know, and I want it too. But we need to slow down."

She ran her fingers through my hair, and she buried her face in the crook of my neck, kissing my jawline, then buzzing her lips up to my ear, trying to break down my control. "Do you really want to slow down?" she whispered sexily.

No. God no. I want to slide your body under mine and bring you the most intense pleasure.

"No, but we need to," I said, and she silenced me again with another kiss, all while running her free hand over my back, making me shudder. She was so potent to me. One hit and all I wanted was more.

"What about in a few months when I'm in New York? Would we still have to slow down then?"

It didn't take me long to consider her question. I'd been thinking about it for the last few days we'd been together. We had a chance, an opportunity to make a go of something. She'd be in school in New York, and I'd be working in New York. Maybe it was crazy to keep this up, but it seemed crazier to let her go.

"No," I admitted.

If a grin could be both wicked and innocent, she mastered it right then with the look on her beautiful face from my answer.

"Will we see each other when I go to NYU?"

"Of course we'll see each other, even though my job is going to take me out of town a lot," I told her, and she looked crestfallen. I pulled her back to me, wanting to reassure her, to let her know how much she'd made a mark on me. "Don't be sad, Sonny. I'm totally falling for you, and I don't want to take advantage of you. I like you that much. I like you so much it scares me."

"Don't be scared. I don't bite," she said, then nibbled on my collarbone, making me laugh, and making me want to find a way to make this work. I wanted to be sure she was ready for more though, especially since she hadn't used the falling word yet. She hadn't returned my "I'm falling for you."

I tried not to let that bother me, wanting to give her space and time to say it, if she felt. God, I hoped she felt it.

We kept on like that for the next few days. We went to the beach at night, we worked together during the day, and she even showed me a sketch for a necklace she wanted to make. My time at her house was nearing its end, and we were both aware we'd have to figure out what would happen next. At the end of the week, we were at the theater again, the place where we'd first kissed and first admitted we had feelings for each other. After the credits rolled, she grasped my hand tighter, and looked me in the eyes. "Remember what you said the other night?"

"When you were telling me about a new necklace design?" I said playfully.

"No." She swatted me lightly on the arm.

"When we discussed the merits of raccoons on film?"

She shook her head. "Not that either."

I rested my index finger on my chin. "Hmmm, could it be the night we talked about all the places we want to see in Paris when we go there someday?"

"Not that either. But I definitely want to go to Paris with you."

"And I want to go with you too," I said, squeezing her hand. "So what's the thing I'm supposed to remember from the other night?"

"When you said you were falling for me," she said in a sweet whisper.

I nodded, my heart beating furiously fast.

She kept her eyes on me, holding my gaze as she spoke. "I'm falling for you too."

I knew I couldn't let this end.


	6. Breaking news to Huan

**Thank you R, Jat1994, your review means a lot. ****iWant9Lives2Live and guest****thank you for the reviews as well **

**R: This is the final chapter about the flashback of five years before and I don't know what should I put up next, I would like some ideas coming up for the later chapters but not the sad ideas. I am not sure how long the story is going to be either**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

It was only fitting that Bruce Springsteen was playing on the sound system at the bar. He was always singing about doing the right thing, and manning up, and that's what I was going to do right this second.

Finally.

I ripped off the Band-Aid, and went for it, looking Huan straight in the eyes. "So listen, I kind of fell for your sister this summer and I'd really love your permission to keep going out with her."

Huan's jaw dropped, and my heart beat faster. Oh shit. He was going to kill me. He cocked his arm and started to swing. But instead, he just clapped me on the shoulder.

"Dude, you honestly think I didn't notice?" Huan said, then took another drink of his beer. We were at a bar in the city celebrating his new job.

Now it was my turn to be surprised. "You noticed?"

He rolled his eyes. "You couldn't keep your eyes off her whenever she walked in the room. You were always going to the movies with her. Working the morning shift. You two are so perfect for each other it kind of makes me sick, but hey, better you than any other guy."

I wiped my hand across my forehead. "Whew. I thought you were going to be pissed."

"I'm only slightly pissed that you didn't tell me when you were at my house this summer. But at least you're saying something now and I appreciate it."

"Well, thanks for not wanting to strangle me," I said and took a swallow of my drink.

"Just don't break her heart. That's all I ask. Or I will kill you," he said, and by the tone of his voice I knew he was serious.

"I promise. I won't break her heart."

After I started my job in August, she visited me in the city and we became part of the fabric of New York, wandering through the Metropolitan Museum, kissing by the fountain at Lincoln Centre, meandering in and out of Manhattan's neighbourhoods, touching and holding hands. I wanted more, so much more, and so did she, but we'd agreed to wait till she moved into the city, and was ready to start college.

As we strolled along a tree-lined street in the Village one weekend I told her I had a surprise for her.

She arched an eyebrow, but her eyes sparkled. "What kind of surprise?"

"If I tell you it won't be a surprise, now will it? We're almost there."

"Oh!" She said, and stopped in her tracks. "I forgot to tell you. I have exciting news for you."

"What is it?"

"There's a little boutique owner in Mystic who likes my necklaces. She said she wants me to join her at an upcoming festival in town and try selling some at a booth," she said, and she was bouncing on her feet.

"How could you forget to tell me that? That's huge, Sonny. I'm so happy for you," I said and pulled her in close for a hug. "You haven't even started school yet and you're already on your way to being a star."

"I'm hardly a star," she said, then planted a quick kiss on my lips. "But it's a start."

I reached for her hand. "It's the start of an amazing career you're going to have," I said and soon we reached a tiny little Japanese manga shop. I'd stumbled upon this shop when I went to NYU, and it was perfect for Sonny. "This is your surprise."

She arched an eyebrow. "You want me to become a comic book fan?"

"I'm not trying to convert you to comic books. Just go in. You'll see."

Once inside, she was the proverbial kid in the candy store, wide-eyed and slack-jawed when she saw the display of Hello Kitty jewelry, bracelets and necklaces. Fine, it was bling. Bright, shiny, Hello Kitty bling, but Sonny loved the kitschiness of it.

I smiled the whole time as I watched her take it all in. Seeing her happy was like a drug. I'd do whatever I could to get this reaction from my girl. "I thought you might get a kick out of it. But, you make such amazing stuff this might all seem silly to you. Especially now that you're being recruited for your necklaces."

She reached for me, wrapped her hand around my arm. "I love it. No matter what I make, I will always love Hello Kitty. It's a life-long kind of thing we have going on."

"Good. Pick anything you like." Fine, it wasn't Tiffany's. I wasn't some loaded hedge fund manager bringing her into a swank jewelry store and promising diamonds. But this was Sonny's Tiffany's, and judging from the way her brown eyes seemed to twinkle, it was as if I'd brought her to Aladdin's cave and she was discovering gems and rubies. I ran my hand along her lower back, unable to resist touching her. She sighed and inched closer to me as she checked out necklaces and rings. She held up a ring that she liked, showing it to me.

"Cute," I murmured as I brushed my lips against her neck. I slipped my hand under the back of her shirt, tracing her soft skin. "You feel so good," I whispered.

"You're distracting me," she said, but she moved closer too, and I was damn near ready to tug her into my arms, thread my fingers through her hair, and kiss her deeply right in the store.

The woman behind the counter cleared her throat, and that was my cue to keep it PG. Sonny picked out a sparkly necklace with pink stones for the cat's ears.

"Wait for me outside," I told her, then went to the register to pay for the gifts.

A minute later I left the store, tucking a tiny white bag into my wallet. I'd save the gift in the bag for the next time I saw her. I asked Sonny to turn around. She lifted up her hair, and I kissed her lightly on her neck, savoring that sweet sexy moment when she shivered under my touch. "I could do this all day," I said, as I fastened the necklace.

"Put jewelry on me?" She teased.

"No. Kiss you," I said, then dropped my mouth to her neck once more, kissing my way up to her ear, as she pressed her body against me. "I love kissing you. I'm so crazy for you. And I know this is just a little necklace, but I wanted you to have something from me. Something you liked."

She turned around, looping her arms around my neck. "I love it, Chad. I totally love it."

That word burrowed into my heart, and I wanted to say it, to tell her all that I felt for her. But I kept it inside for longer, wanting to take things slow with her. She had the world ahead of her, and I didn't want to rush a thing.

"Let's go walk around NYU. You're going to be there in just a few weeks."

We wandered over to campus, and as she peered in the buildings, checking out dorms and classrooms, she had the most excited look in her eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to be here soon. It's going to be amazing. Did you love it here?"

"Absolutely. Every second of it," I said. "College is everything they say it is."

"What do you mean?"

"That it's the time when you find yourself. When you figure out what you want. And when you have a ton of fun."

"I can't wait to start."

As we reached the campus bookstore, my phone chimed with an email. I slid my finger across the screen.

"I'll be right back. I need to see what my boss wants. I'll meet you in the store," I said to Sonny. I clicked open the email and the subject line read Paris. I read the rest of the note. "Looks like there might be an opening soon in our Paris office. You're fluent, right? Let's talk Monday about this."

Equal parts excitement and surprise raced through me. My boss had mentioned working abroad, but it had never occurred to me it might happen so quickly. Nor had it occurred to me I might be separated from Sonny by an ocean. I wanted to stay, but I wanted to go.

When I found her in the bookstore, she asked if everything was okay.

"Yeah, it's great actually," I said because I did want this. I did want the opportunity to learn and grow in my career that was just starting. "I might be going to Paris soon. To work."

"That's amazing," she said mile on her gorgeous face. "You know I'd be there in a heartbeat to see you."

I kissed her hard that night when I put her on the train back to Mystic, wishing it didn't feel like it might be the last time.

I didn't want it to be the last time. Not at all. But I knew it had to be.

Three days later I broke up with her.


	7. Five Years Later

**I liked the three ideas I had. Yes R, Sonny and Chad need a breakup **

**And like guest said Chad can move to LA and as per X-Rock-Hard-X's suggestion Chad and Sonny can meet over business. Thank you for the suggestions **

_***I made changes to the last chapter, please look at it***_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

Five years later

Chad

As we walked along the Santa Monica promenade, the sun shining brightly overhead, my sister brought the camera to her eyes and snapped several quick shots.

"Get anyone good?" I asked when she lowered the camera.

"Oh, you didn't notice? That was Lucien Drone," she said, pointing casually at the man she'd just photographed. I glanced behind us and saw a squat, balding guy walking the other way. "The short dude?"

She nodded.

"Why you'd take his picture? Never even heard of him."

"He used to be on a TV show that was popular in the 80s. Furs and Fiends. He was the skeezy pimp."

"Gotta say, I'm glad I never saw that show."

"I don't even think this picture is worth anything," she said, tapping her camera. "No one, not even the worst celebrity rags want his shot unless they're doing a where are the has-beens now. So maybe I'll try to sell it for coffee change."

"How do you have time for college and taking pictures of celebrities?" I asked as we neared the restaurant where we were headed for lunch. I was in Los Angeles for business for my company Made Here that I'd started a few years ago. But I had time in between meetings to hang out with Jess. I hadn't seen her in several months. She'd just started her sophomore year of college.

"Chad," she said and mimed juggling. "I'm like you. I learned from the best. When you want something, you go after it, and you juggle everything."

"You want to take pictures of celebrities? That's what you're going after?"

"No. Dork. I want to put myself through college like you did. But speaking of going after things," she said, and stopped walking to cross her arms and stare hard at me. "Are you still pining after Sonny?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked with a laugh, the kind that said she'd caught me red-handed.

"The girl you told me you fell for five years ago?"

"No. Of course I'm not pining for her," I said, adding in a scoff for good measure.

She poked me in the chest.

"I don't even know what she's up to," I said, looking the other way.

"She's making necklaces now. My Favorite Mistakes, she calls them. I don't even like jewelry but those are seriously nice necklaces."

I turned back to Jess, impressed that she knew. "You track her too?"

She pointed her finger at me and smiled widely. "Aha! So you are still thinking of Sonny. I knew it."

"Fine. You caught me." I held up my hands. There was no point denying it. Breaking up with Sonny was my biggest regret. Hands down, bar none. I thought my reasons were good, but nothing had come close to the idiocy of what I'd done when I left her. If I could turn back time, I would do everything over again from that moment I gave her the necklace.

"You are a world class idiot," Jess continued, pushing her sunglasses higher on her head. "You've spent five years missing her. You need to find her. You need to find a way to reconnect with her. See if she hates you. Ask Huan even. Or does he want to kill you still for breaking her heart?"

"No. He was pretty pissed at first, but he moved on and we're still friends." My sister knew everything about Sonny. I couldn't keep it all inside, and Jess was the only person I felt comfortable talking to about it. I spilled the beans to her after I went to Paris with an empty ache in my heart, one that hadn't faded over those five years.

"She's in New York," Jess said pointedly. "I looked her up before I saw you this morning. She's building her business. There has to be a way you can try to win her back. After all, that's what the hero in a movie would do."

Movies. I knew someone who loved movies. I only hoped I could find the same happy ending with Sonny that Hollywood gives you.

Then I remembered the mentorship program at the NYU business school. Maybe I could get into that, and find my way back to her.

I gestured to the restaurant. "Let's have lunch and plot a way back to the heroine's heart."

Jess flashed me a bright smile. "Now you're talking."


	8. Meeting Sonny Again

**Well R, it's your idea that they should be together but after a break up, a lil spice from me and I won't explain the break up misery. It will be a romantic make up, so a happy story indeed **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

He was my first favourite mistake.

I hadn't seen him in five years, and now as he walked to the front of the small classroom, every muscle in my body tensed, and my brain went into hyper drive as I told myself not to think of lights going down in movie theatres or of hot summer nights miles away from here tangled up in him.

Be strong. Be cool. Be badass.

I ran my index finger across the silver charm I made when I left for college, as if the miniature movie camera could channel steely resolve into me, as it had these last few years. Even though I'd absolutely moved on. That's why it hadn't even occurred to me that he might be here today, even though, technically, I suppose I should have known it was a possibility since he graduated from this same business school. We even walked around this campus together the last time I saw him, as we made plans with each other, as we made promises to each other.

Until he broke my heart and became a charm on my necklace instead — the very first one, and the inspiration for my jewelry — a cold, metal reminder that mistakes can make us better.

But I was safely on the other side now. I was over Chad, over the anger, over the whole thing. I was totally fine, thank you very much. Except, as he neared the whiteboard with the name of the class, Experiential Learning, scrawled in blue marker on it, I was being educated on a new definition of the word unfair. Because I so wanted to be the girl who didn't even notice he was here, but instead I catalogued every detail, from the slightest trace of stubble on his jawline, to the way his golden hair still invited fingers to be run through it, to how the checked navy blue shirt he wore had probably never looked quite so good as when it hugged his arms and stretched across his chest.

Chad froze when he saw me. His blue eyes hooked into mine for the briefest of moments, and maybe for real, or maybe just in my imagination, I saw a tinge of regret in them. But then he recovered a second later, and flashed a quick, closed-mouth smile to the class. Of course it wouldn't bother him to see me here. He didn't care about me then. He wouldn't care about me now.

But I could pull off indifference too, so I looked away first. There. Two could play at this game.

Chad stood next to the professor at the head of the classroom, along with the other business school alum who would be matched with my fellow graduate students for this mentorship program. In his trademark three-piece suit, spectacles and a silk handkerchief, Professor Oliver was his usual peppy self as he introduced the mentors. One of the gals ran a venture fund she'd started herself, another had been a superstar skateboarder then launched a line of skate wear that was now hugely popular with teens, one of the guys oversaw a firm that had designed some of the most successful iPhone apps, and another founded a health video service.

Then there was Chad Dylan Cooper, five years older than me, and I already knew what he did for a living. I knew other things about him too. I knew what his lips tasted like. How his arms felt under my hands. How his kisses went on and on and I'd never wanted them to end. And like a snap of the fingers, I was back in time, no longer a graduate student, no longer in the first row of the classroom. I was just a girl fresh off high school graduation, wrapped around her brother's best friend. Chad was running his hands through my hair, and kissing my neck, and I shuddered. Everyone else, everything else faded away. He was the only one there.

I could have stayed trapped like that, beholden to the memory of the way he felt, the things we said. The words only I said.

I gripped the charm to break away from the past. I let a tiny kernel of latent anger in me start to come out of hiding. I needed that anger, because I needed to focus on the present, and there was no room for him, or those kind of memories, in it. I was a different person now. I was a savvy twenty-three. I'd already earned my bachelor's degree from NYU, and now I was finishing my master's degree from the same school and growing a business, all while paying the rent in a Chelsea apartment. I wasn't that love-struck teenager anymore. Besides, there was just a one-in-five chance I'd be paired with him. Wouldn't it make the most sense for my professor to match me with the skate wear girl since we were both in the fashion business? I was a jewelry designer after all, with a line of necklaces already selling well online and in several boutiques around the city.

Professor Oliver rocked back and forth on his wingtips, full of energy, while he rattled off names of my classmates, then the mentor they'd work with. The first student was paired with iPhone guy. Okay, there was a one-out-of-four chance now. I crossed my fingers. Venture Girl was partnered off next with a different student. One in three. I made a quick wish on an unseen star. Professor Oliver read off the names of another student and the health video service guy. I took a deep calming breath. Clearly, the professor was saving me for the skateboard girl. She looked so cool too, so hip with pink streaks in her black hair and cat's eye glasses. Yes, she'd be a perfect mentor and I'd learn so much about a business that wasn't that different from mine.

I held my breath and hoped. But Professor Oliver called out someone else's name for skateboard girl. My heart dropped, and I felt my insides tighten.

"And that means, Ms. Monroe, that your business mentor for this semester will be Chad Dylan Cooper. Allow me to officially introduce you two."

Chad held out his hand, as if it were the first time he was touching me.

"It's a pleasure."

"All mine," I said, wishing there weren't some truth to my words.


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you for the review R **

**I have posted a new story Hired Girlfriend, it already has two chapters up. Please check it out. Thank you **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

One of the reasons I'd wanted to attend New York University's Stern School of Business was for this class. Today would be our only day in the classroom. The rest of the semester we'd spend time with real businesses, tackling real issues, and gaining insight into how to make our fledgling little ventures better. Ever since a boutique owner in my hometown had stopped me at age nineteen and asked where I'd gotten my un-usual and eye-catching charm necklace — I'd made it myself, I proudly told her — I had wanted to learn the ins and outs of building a bigger business. I never told her the genesis of my jewelry line. I never revealed to anyone but my best friend Tawni that I'd started it out of rejection. That it was fuelled by hurt. The charms were my way of taking something back, taking me back after Chad's callous brush-off. If I were a rock star, I'd have Taylor Swifted him and written one of those anthemic I don't love you anymore songs. Instead, I did the only thing I could do. I turned to my one talent and uttered a quiet screw you, Chad Dylan Cooper with my jewelry.

The boutique owner had started carrying my necklaces and the My Favorite Mistakes style had become a — well — a favorite in her store, and soon at my parent's shop too, then at others in Manhattan. The trouble was my charms were all handmade. By me. And the grassroots nature was getting a little challenging. I needed practical skills and knowledge to grow, and I was more than ready to get them through this mentorship.

But that wasn't the only reason I needed this class. My parents had stumbled into hard times when the tough economy hit the tourist town of Mystic, Connecticut where they ran a little gift shop and had for years. They took out a loan to keep inventory stocked, and I hated to see them struggling especially since the store was their nest egg, their third kid, their key to an eventual retirement. They'd worked so hard my whole life, putting my brother and me through college, weathering many storms of the financial and the health variety for years. Now they were within spitting distance of retirement, and I wanted to do all I could to make sure they could enjoy some well-deserved time off. I'd taken out loans to pay for business school, but they weren't due for several years, so my plan was to ramp up my own business quickly to help pay off theirs.

So, really, was it so much for me to want to learn in a distraction-free fashion? Working alongside the man who'd broken my heart one summer night five years ago wasn't conducive to focusing. Especially not when he looked even better than he did then. He'd had a sweet boyish face when he was in his early twenties. Now, he was twenty-eight and while the boyish charm was still present in spades, there was also a sophistication to his features, to his style, to his clothes. Five years running a corporation would do that to you. As I sat down next to Chad, I did my best to put on my bulletproof even though I could tell his arms were even stronger and more toned, and that his deep blue eyes could still reel me in with one look.

I gritted my teeth. This was not going to work. Clearly, I'd need a new mentor. I had to graduate, and I had to succeed in this class. I tried to picture my strong and sturdy mom, from the way she'd managed her recovery from a car accident years ago with a tough kind of optimism, to how she could stare down an overdue loan notice by brushing one palm against the other and saying, "Let's get to work." Work. Yes, work. I was laser-focused on work. "This was my favorite class when I went here," Chad said, breaking the silence.

"Oh. It was?"

"Well, I guess it's not a class, right?" he added, correcting himself, then laughed awkwardly. He must have been nervous. That made me feel the slightest bit vindicated. "What do we call it? A workshop?" I shook my head. "Not an internship," he continued, and I shook again.

"Practicum?"

I wanted to laugh at the word, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead, I shook my head once more.

But he was agile at playing both parts and picked up the baton of the conversation himself.

"That's kind of an awful word, isn't it?"

"It's dreadful."

"Terrible."

"Wretched."

And as if no time had passed, we were back in banter, one of the things we'd always done well — play with words.

"Whatever you call it, the class was my favorite. When you couldn't tear me away from the statistics and econ books, that is." He flashed his lopsided smile that showed off straight white teeth. He was trying to smooth over the past, but I wasn't going to have it. I wasn't going to let myself go any further in the chatter, the conversations, and the back-and-forth that had fuelled us that one summer. So I didn't respond, giving a curt nod instead.

The other students chatted with their mentors, and the buzz and hum filled the small classroom. I glanced over at Professor Oliver, who looked as if he were about to whistle a happy tune as he watched how well the initial "Get to know you" session was going. But it didn't matter if everyone else was getting along with their mentors. My success or failure would be based on what I accomplished outside of the confines of this classroom as I worked in close quarters with my mentor.

I had to be re-matched with someone else.

Chad and I didn't say anything for a stretch. He locked his eyes on me, then lowered his voice. "Look, Sonny. I had no idea."

"No idea what?"

"That you'd be in this class."

This was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn't. It made me feel worse. He probably wanted out of this too-close-for-comfort deal as much as I did. But I couldn't let on that he'd pierced me again. "It's nothing. I'll just ask to be reassigned," I said coolly, praying Professor Oliver would agree. He had office hours tomorrow morning. I'd be lined up outside his door ready to make my request.

Chad shook his head, and lifted his hand towards me, as if he were about to rest his palm on my leg, or my arm. I inched away. Almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice. He clasped his fingers together instead. He parted his lips. Paused. Then, in a low voice that sounded smoky at that volume, he said, "But I'm glad you are. I'm glad it worked out this way." I'd spent the last five years juggling classes and making jewelry, building my business and moving past my first big love. The last thing I needed was to be thrust back into the fire. I would only get burned again.

I was the first one to leave the classroom. I made a beeline for the ladies room where I busied myself reapplying lip gloss and trying to fluff out my dark brown hair to pass the time. I grabbed an always handy clip and twisted my long hair into a quick up do. I tucked a few loose strands behind my ears.

I looked at the time. Only a few minutes had passed. I brushed off a piece of lint from the short suede boots I'd snagged at a bargain price from a vintage shop in the Village, then readjusted the neckline of the chocolate-colour top I wore that brought out the brown in my eyes.

Another minute gone.

I rooted around in my purse for my mascara, touched up my lashes, then checked the time once more. Satisfied that Chad had likely left the building, I ventured out. I dialled the number of my parent's shop as the heels of my boots echoed across the wide hallway. I wanted to talk to my mom, but I also needed to root myself to the realities of my life. My parents, my plans for them, my goals for the business. My mom's voice alone had the power to ground me and keep me steady.

"Mystic Landing. How may I help you?"

"Hey, Mom."

"Hey, sweetie," she said, and dived into her usual million questions. "How are you? How's school? How's Tawni? How are My Favourite Mistakes?"

"I'm great. School is fine. I've never had a better roommate. And I'm working hard on the business. But, how are you? What's going on with you and Dad and the shop?

I could picture her waving a hand in the air to make it seem like my question was no big deal. Then sharing a smile as a customer walked into the store. Then again, maybe there weren't that many customers.

"Everything is just fine. A young woman even came in this morning and tried on one of your necklaces."

"Awesome. Did she buy it?"

"No, but she said she'd come back tomorrow."

"So, are you still getting plenty of late summer tourists?"

"Oh sure. Of course," she said quickly, but I wondered if she was just trying to seem strong for me.

"What have you been up to today?"

"I rearranged some of the window displays."

My heart sank. That could only mean business was still slow. If there were customers, she wouldn't be spending her time prettying up the windows. She'd be at the cash register, working the counter, ringing up little sundries and gifts for all the tourists who streamed in.

The very same counter where I was standing five years ago when Chad asked me out on our first date.

Blinders, Sonny. Put your blinders on.

We talked more about her day, then I told my mom I loved her and said goodbye.

As I left the building, I nearly dropped my phone when I saw Chad waiting for me. The image I had wanted most to see all those months after he left me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the late update. Hope you would like the chapter. Please review it **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance **

He was framed by Washington Square Park and late afternoon clouds behind him.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said as I neared him. His friendly manner made the coil of anger rise perilously close to the surface. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he could set off fifty different emotions in me with one look. Impervious would be my new watchword.

"Who would have thought," I replied, keeping a distance in my tone. I reached for the movie charm, touched it once, as if it brought me power and strength. Nearby, a mime walked an imaginary dog and a grown woman in a Glinda dress created giant bubbles with a wand, to the delight of a few toddlers chasing them.

"So I was thinking," he said. "What do you say we start over? Just forget the past, and move on, and we've got a clean slate. We just met today."

"Easy for you to say," I muttered under my breath.

He raised an eyebrow. He hadn't heard me and I chose not to repeat myself. Crossing my arms, I waited for him to make the next move.

So he tipped his forehead to an open bench.

"Want to chat for a bit?"

No. I don't want to chat with you. I don't want to be near you. I don't want to let you close to me again in any way, shape or form.

Except, I might have no choice but to be civil with him. I'd do my damndest tomorrow to switch mentors, but if I couldn't pull it off, then I'd have to be cordial. Sure, a clean slate seemed as good a ruse as anything. I could pretend he'd meant nothing to me. After all, I'd been over him for a long time. Seeing him again had simply stirred old memories, like dust in an un-used room. You cough a few times, then leave.

I played along. The past was gone, and I'd just met him today. I smiled the kind that didn't reach my eyes, and I extended a hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sonny Monroe. I'm an aspiring jewelry designer."

He shook my hand. "Chad Dylan Cooper. I run Made Here. We make things like this," he said, and fingered the onyx cufflinks on his sleeves.

"Nice to meet you too."

We walked to the bench. It was long enough that we didn't have to be too close. I sat on the far end, hoping he'd take the hint. But he barely left any room between us when he joined me. With him so close I couldn't think straight. I could only wander over to the part of my brain that remembered how we couldn't keep our hands off each other that summer. He was always touching my back, my legs, and my waist. If hands had any sort of permanent memory, mine surely recalled the lines of his flat stomach, his firm chest, and his sculpted arms.

Stop!

I pictured profit and loss statements. The array of numbers erased the images of us.

He leaned an arm against the back of the bench. "So tell me about your jewelry designs, Sonny," he said, then looked down at my necklace.

I thought about how I'd answer anyone else who'd asked the question. I'd say: I always loved dressing up as a kid and rooting through my mom's jewelry box to find bangles and necklaces and rings. But they hardly fit so I began making my own jewelry, playing around with designs and styles. I started with necklace-making kits for kids, stringing together beads and baubles and little charms on wire. In junior high I even sold some of my necklaces at local craft fairs, then moved onto heart pendants in high school. After I turned eighteen I had the idea of making a charm necklace. But one that meant something. One that celebrated the mistakes we made as we moved past them.

Instead, I kept my reply clinical. "They're charms that mean something to the wearer."

"My Favorite Mistakes," he said.

"How did you know?" I was surprised he knew the name of my line.

He gave me a sheepish grin. "I like to stay on top of things. Know who's up and coming," he said. I wasn't sure if this was personal, if he'd been researching me because of our past, or simply because he was a smart businessman. I reminded myself not to read anything into it.

This was business, purely business. Then he moved his hand towards my neck. "May I?"

"Do you want me to take it off?" I asked, tripping on the unintended double entendre. I wanted to kick myself.

"I like it on." Running a finger against a miniature skyscraper charm, he grazed my skin and a spark shot through me. I looked away, so he couldn't read my eyes, and see what I'd felt. I stared at the sky instead. The clouds had become greyer. There was a heaviness to them that spelled rain soon.

"What's this one?"

"A friend of mine in college had a lead on a super cheap sub-lease on the upper east side that I almost moved into before I started the MBA program. I didn't get the apartment, and I was devastated at the time."

"So you made a charm?"

"It all worked out for the best. Because now I have a great roommate and an amazing place in Chelsea," I said giving him another sanitized answer. If I'd wanted to let him in, I'd have told him the full story. That it was a good thing I didn't move in-to that building, because then I went to see an odd little musical theater showcase in Hell's Kitchen. I wound up hanging out with the cast afterwards, including the lead actress, an amazing girl named Tawni who had just nabbed a rent-controlled apartment in Chelsea that was handed down to her from her aunt. She needed a roommate; I needed a place. Now she's my best friend, and we also have the one cheap and cool apartment in all of Manhattan.

Plus, she practiced her audition songs in our living room for an off-Broadway modernized version of Les Mis that she's in starting this week. She landed the part of Eponine and she's awesome.

"Chelsea is great. Very eclectic. Perfect for you," he said.

I stared at him sharply. I resented the assumption that he thought he still knew me.

"How would you know?"

"Know what?"

"What's perfect for me? How would you know?"

"It just seems very you. Chelsea, that is," he answered, stumbling on his words as I dug in.

"But you don't know me anymore. You don't know a thing about me."

He nodded once, taking my brusqueness on the chin. "I didn't mean anything by it. I'm sorry."

"For what? What are you sorry for, Chad?"

"For…" he started, but then the Glinda-clad woman ran past us, a giant bubble trailing behind her that the children chased.

I took a quick breath, reminding myself to let go of all these warring emotions. To feel nothing.

"Chelsea is great," I said, like a robot. Then I took the reins of the conversation, pointing to another charm, this one a silver book with the pages open. "I almost majored in English when I started college. I wasn't sure I was going to study business as an undergrad. But at the end of my freshman year when a shop owner started carrying my necklaces, I switched to business. So my almost-major is another favorite mistake," I said, and this time he got the whole tale because everyone did. This was a true story, and it was also the backstory on the Web site for My Favorite Mistakes.

He nodded. "I like that. Very smart decision, and a good way to acknowledge the road not taken. And this one?" He fingered the movie camera, his hand resting on the space just above my breasts. My chest rose and fell, and I tried to steady my breathing.

I called up my recollection of a risk management class lecture so I could deliver an off-hand answer. "Oh, that one. I just made that to remind myself not to spend too much time watching movies."

Because movies had been our thing. Our first kiss had been in a movie theater.

He was still touching the camera, but he was looking straight at me. As if he could read the lie.

I shifted the focus away from me. "And you? What about your business, Mr Cooper?" I asked, as if I were a curious reporter.

He let the charm drop, and the metal he'd touched felt warm against me. He held out his arm, showing me the cuffs of his sleeves.

"These bad boys. Women seem to love to give them as gifts." He nodded to his cufflinks, as if to say it was okay to touch them. I resisted, banishing all thoughts of unbuttoning the black onyx, of taking off his shirt, of watching the fabric fall away from him to reveal his smooth chest, his firm stomach, his trim arms. Instead, I rewound to the morning, trying to remember if I'd dropped an umbrella into my purse, because the sky was about to split open.

"We make them at a factory near Philly, along with tie clips and money holders. But the cufflinks especially have taken off like crazy in the last few years. Especially with those books that have them on the cover. American-made, and a perfect gift from a girl to a guy. Or a guy to a guy, in some cases."

"Right. Perfect gift." I stood up and brushed my hand over my skirt, then gestured to the clouds. "I better go."

He rose too. "You going back to Chelsea?"

"Yes."

"I'll give you a ride. I have my car."

"I'm fine. I'll walk or take the subway."

"Sonny. It's about to pour any second."

I patted my purse. "I have an umbrella in here."

"Wouldn't it just be easier not to fight for a cab, not to get soaked, and not to have to take the subway?"

Before I could say no again, he was giving his driver our exact location as the first drops hit my head. We walked quickly to the curb while the rain picked up speed. Moments later, Chad held open the door to his town car for me. A drop fell in my eye. I blinked it out, then bonked my head on the top of the door as I got into the car. "Ouch!"

A sharp pain radiated across my forehead.

"You okay?" Chad asked, as he slid in next to me. The windows were tinted, but the partition was down, so I could hear the faint strains of music from the satellite radio, and I could just make out the words to Jack White's cover of Love is Blind-ness. I almost wanted to ask the driver to change the channel because the lyrics turned my heart in knots with dark wanting.

I pressed my palm against my head where it smarted. "I just don't know how that door got in the way of my head," I said, and Chad laughed.

Then he gently placed a palm on my forehead. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," I whispered, letting down my guard for a moment. Brushing my dark brown bangs from my face, he held my gaze in a way that chipped away at all the walls I'd rebuilt with him in the last hour. I flashed back to the movie theater in Mystic, to our first kiss, to how I'd had no need for barriers then.

"Do you need ice for it?"

"Do you have ice?"

"Of course. Fully stocked."

"I think I'll be okay."

"Then let me just give you a kiss to make it better," he said, and moved towards me. I closed my eyes and breathed out, slipping away into the feel of his tender lips on me. He stayed there for many more seconds than he needed to. He was inches from me, and I could feel the warmth from his body, as I let myself enjoy his kiss on my forehead.

He pulled away. "All better now?"

I nodded.

"What's your address?"

I gave it to him, and he told the driver, then he looked back at me again. His green eyes were darker, more intense. "It's really good to see you again, Sonny."

I grasped mentally at numbers, at logic, at images of my parent's store, at the sound of my mom's voice. But they were all wisps in my hands, falling through fingers, as my double-crossing heart longed to whisper it's good to see you too. His gaze stayed on me, and his eyes said so many things, all the things I'd wanted to hear.

I could feel the whole back of the car grow smaller and bigger at the same time. Everything faded away, the din of the music from the radio, the strangers on the street ducking under awnings and opening umbrellas as they sought cover. He was all I saw, sitting next to me, looking in my eyes. I wished I could say I was thinking of business, of my jewelry line, or even of mundane things like where I'd left the quarters for the next load of laundry, because that would all prove I was as impervious as I'd aimed to be.

But when your first love tells you how good it is to see you again, you don't think at all. You just feel. I felt my traitorous heart jumping, my belly flipping.

Stupid body trying to trick me.

Somewhere, I caught the dangling end of the anger still in me, and held on tight so I wouldn't fall into his arms. "This is a nice car," I said crisply, by way of changing the subject.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah. Thanks. So, I was thinking it would be a good start to this mentor thing if I show you the factory. Can you go with me on Friday?"

"Let me just check my schedule and get back to you."

Then I turned away, and stared out the window, as if the rain-soaked New York streets were endlessly fascinating, high-fiving myself for playing it cool.


	11. Ride with Chad

**I am sorry I made a mistake, thank you for pointing them out R **

**I was watching a movie and writing the story and wrote the name Jill instead of Tawni. And it's not Chloe, its Chelsea, name of a place. I have corrected the mistakes in the previous chapter. I will be taking the story a bit faster. **

**Thank you Jencat12 for the review and X-Rock-Hard-X thank you for the idea as well**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

I'd deliberately resisted Internet stalking Chad for the last few years. Sure, I knew his company was a generous supporter of the NYU business school and had endowed a new wing of the library last year. I also knew he'd started Made Here four years ago and had grown it quite nicely. But that was because I read business news, and you couldn't miss his success story. Timing was everything and he'd capitalized at just the right moment with his product line. But more so, he knew the mood of the country shifted and that people wanted American-made goods, so he retrofitted former lugnut factories for cufflink manufacturing and then led the rapid growth along with his business partner. I hadn't dug any deeper in the last few years. Nor had I tracked him on Facebook or hunted out anything else in recent months.

The less I knew about him, the better off I was.

Besides, I'd had a boyfriend through most of college, James Preston. We were together for three years. Three tumultuous years. James was an actor at NYU and I first met him after a performance of A Streetcar Named Desire. He played Brando's character and he was breath taking on stage, all raw emotion and power and want. But that intensity he brought to the stage he brought to the relationship too in the form of rabid jealousy and insecurity. One evening our junior year, he showed up at my dorm, banged on the door, and collapsed on the floor in a heap. "I didn't get the part," he moaned. He'd been at a call back for the role of the youngest son in Long Day's Journey into Night.

"I'm so sorry, James," I said and pet his hair. He propped himself up on an elbow. "You don't love me enough."

"I do love you," I told him.

"Then marry me. Marry me now. Let's have a secret marriage. Prove you love me by marrying me."

I was twenty. Even if I wanted to get married, I wasn't going to do it secretly. But he looked at me so seriously, and with also something like anger in his eyes. I laughed nervously.

"You don't love me enough," he repeated.

Love me enough. What did that even mean? Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't love him enough. All I knew was when he showed up drunk at three in the morning the next night, it didn't feel like love. It felt like stalking. He kept appearing in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I let him in just to shut him up so I could fall back asleep. He'd lie in bed with me and wake me up at three, four, and five in the morning by poking his finger in my ear. "Stay up all night with me. To prove you love me." I couldn't prove I loved him enough, nor did I want to, and given the unexpected and unwanted late-night visits.

I left James and went back to my apartment.

I sought out information about Chad online.

Chad's feelings didn't matter to me anymore. I read a few more articles on Made Here's business strategy, then researched the skate wear girl so I was prepped for tomorrow. I shifted gears and tended to some online orders, responded to some emails, and checked out a few of my favorite European design blogs. Then I worked on my other classwork, keeping a laser focus the whole time. It was nearly midnight when my roommate Tawni, with her blond hair and deep blue eyes, threw open the door and announced she was home from an epic dress rehearsal in which the cast of Les Mis had kicked unholy musical ass. I laughed and listened to her report.

When she was done, I clasped my hands together. "You will never believe what happened today."

"Tell me."

I proceeded to share every single detail of my afternoon. "Isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? I'm marching into my professor's office and requesting a new mentor tomorrow."

Tawni smirked.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, what now?"

Then came a shrug and a knowing look.

"I'm just saying, it doesn't sound like you hated the kiss as much as you're making it sound like you hated the kiss."

"I hated every second of it," I said through tight lips.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, my sunny Sonshine."

The next morning Tawni woke me up bright and early by throwing a sports bra on my face.

"Rise and burn, Sonshine. Rise and burn." I rolled over in bed and shielded my eyes.

"Go away."

That made Tawni jump onto my bed and bounce up and down.

"How is it you can rehearse till midnight and have the energy to go for a run at seven in the morning?"

"I'm a vampire. I don't need sleep. I survive off the nectar of my Broadway ambitions. And let's not forget I was actually up till past midnight listening to you tell me all about Mr. Hottie McCufflinks."

I swatted Tawni with a pillow, then sat up in bed. Tawni clapped. "I won. Let's go run." She was already in her leggings, sports bra and a tight tee-shirt, with her long blond hair looped in a hair tie.

"Fine," I said, then brushed my teeth, yanked my hair into a ponytail and pulled on workout clothes. We ran when we hit the sidewalk of Twenty-Second Street heading for the West Side Bike Path. The sun was rising, and it promised a warm September day, free of rain.

"So what's your plan? How are you going to resist him during your mentorship?" Tawni started, arms tucked properly by her body, feet hitting the ground in perfect runner's stride.

"I'm asking for a transfer. But even if I can't get one, I don't like Chad, so it'll be fine."

"Ha."

"Besides, he doesn't like me either," I said in between breaths.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Tawni, he didn't like me five years ago. Why would he like me now?"

She gave me a sideways glance. "He did like you then.

He just freaked out. Got scared or something. That's what I've always believed and you know it. As for why he likes you now – duh. You're you and you're hot." Tawni slowed down her running.

"Besides. He. Kissed. You."

I scoffed. "He kissed my forehead."

"For. Ten. Seconds."

"Anyway, it was nothing. I hit my head, and he was just being nice. Nothing more will happen. Because there is nothing going on." Tawni cackled.

"What?"

"Sonny. Seriously. You always fall for the hot ones."

"Who doesn't fall for the hot ones?"

"True."

"Besides, how do you know he's hot?"

"I looked up his picture. I looked him up too because I know you're all Miss Resistance when it comes to Internet stalking, but I'm not.

You know he's single, right?"

"Yes."

"Broke up with some publicist type he was dating on and off for a few years."

"It if was on and off, it'll probably be on again."

"But people change. And he's clearly realized the error of his ways."

"Look, I can't mess up this mentorship. I know this makes me a freak, but I actually like my parents and want to help them. So I'm all-work-and-no-play-Sonny for the fall."

"I'll believe that when I see it," she said playfully. "And don't worry. I like your parents too." "Good. That's why I can't even go there," I said, in between heavy breaths from running.

"No. That's why you have to be smart about it. Strategic. So whatever happens will have to be a secret. Between you, him, and me. And when you kiss him again, just make sure no one sees you," Tawni said, then gave me a big wink.

I shook my head, but I was smiling at her persistence, even though I knew I couldn't take chances, whether anyone was looking or not. I had too much at stake, most of all my own bruised heart.

I knocked on Professor Oliver's door

"Come in, Ms. Monroe," he said, and gestured to the chair near his desk. "I'm delighted about the assignments this semester, and I hope you are too."

"That's why I'm here, actually. While I have the utmost admiration for Mr Cooper and all that he's achieved as a chief executive at his company, I'd very much prefer a mentor in the retail sector," I said.

Professor Oliver cocked his head to the side. "But Mr Cooper is a perfect match for you." I winced at the words perfect match. Sure, I knew Professor Oliver didn't intend anything by them, because he wasn't talking match in the romantic sense. In fact, entanglements were expressly forbidden. He'd posted an image of a stop sign on his class Web site and the sign read: "No Mentor-Protege hanky-panky. Or else an F." That was how he wrote, with words like hanky-panky. But it was the or else an F directive that scared me.

I pressed forward. "I had really hoped Lacey Haybourne, who founded the skateboard line, would be the best pair-up for me. We're both, essentially, in the fashion industry," I said, adding more details on why the change made sense.

Professor Oliver nodded thoughtfully as if he were considering my request, and I felt like I could exhale for the first time since Chad had walked into the classroom yesterday. That I wasn't going to spend the next three months encased in some sort of dormant anger. Professor Oliver picked up a fountain pen that reminded me of one I'd seen at the upscale Elizabeth's department store recently. He twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Let me shed some light on why I made the match. For My Favorite Mistakes to grow and become a powerful jewelry brand, you'll need to learn about scale.

About production. About manufacturing. That's the field Mr Cooper is in. And what I think your business needs most is this sort of —" Professor Oliver paused as if to consider the words,

"— horizontal learning."

Horizontal learning.

Damn.

I knew he meant our businesses had shared attributes, though Chad's was, of course, multinational. Still, I issued a warning to my brain. Don't go there. Don't imagine anything else horizontal with Chad Cooper. Don't picture him laying you down on a hotel bed and taking off all your clothes. Don't even think about his lips on you.

"I understand sir. I just think —"

"Ms. Monroe," Professor Oliver said gently, but firmly closing a door on my final effort.

"Chad Dylan Cooper will be your mentor, and it will be great for you. Thank you for your understanding."

I was clearly dismissed. I turned to leave, deflated that my negotiation skills were sorely lacking, and frustrated that I'd have to spend three months with someone I'd spent five years

Then, I bit the bullet and emailed Chad to let him know that Friday would work to visit his factory. I stuffed my phone, which I kept in a sparkly Hello Kitty case, underneath my eReader, my wallet, and some tissues at the bottom of my purse, hoping out of sight, out of mind would rule the rest of my day.

Not that I was waiting for his reply. Not that I wanted to see him again. Not at all.

When his name appeared in my email now, I squeaked out an excited oh.

I wanted to smack myself. What was wrong with me? I didn't even like him.

Control. I had to stay in control, so I didn't open the email right away. Instead, I triple-quadruple checked the inside pocket of my purse, I appraised my lipstick in the window, and I peered at the time on my watch. Then, as if I'd proven myself to the judge and jury of me, I took a breath, and calmly tapped on the note.

Sonny — I trust we're still on for tomorrow? I'll send my car to pick you up at 9 a.m. if that works for you. My best,

Chad

I hit reply.

Chad — The time is fine. I'll take my coffee with a splash of cream, please.

Best,

Sonny

Chad's sleek black car with tinted windows was parked outside my building at nine on the dot the next morning.

Then Chad stepped out of the car, wearing dark jeans, a white button-down shirt, and a tie with cartoonish giraffes on them.

"Oh."

"Did the giraffes surprise you?"

"No. I just thought you were sending a car.

I didn't know you'd be in the car."

"Since I need to go to Philly too, I figured I could bum a ride with you. That okay?" he asked playfully.

"Of course."

He held the door open, and I slid into the car. I smoothed out the soft folds on my green skirt as the driver turned on the engine and we pulled away.

"Glad to see you weren't idling," I said in an effort to be civil.

"If I were president, I'd sign a bill forbidding idling at the curb."

"You run a tight dictatorship." "Know what else I'd ban if I were president?"

"Cauliflower?"

He laughed. Damn, I was on fire.

Chad gestured to the drink holder. There were three coffee drinks in it.

"Someone joining us?"

"No.

I wanted to see if I could guess what kind of coffee drink you really liked."

I looked from the coffee to the macchiato to Chad. I let my hand hover over the first drink, then the second, as if it were a shell game.

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. I reached for the coffee and took a drink. It tasted like bitter sludge. I wanted to spit it out. I wanted to wince. Instead, I took a long swallow and fixed on a fake smile. "There is nothing like a coffee to get the day going." He snapped his fingers in a win-some, lose-some gesture. "Damn. I really thought you were still a macchiato girl. I even got an extra shot of caramel in it too," he added.

I took another drink. I'd never liked coffee, but somehow the harsh taste was the reminder I needed not to give in, even to the fact that he'd remembered the extra shot.

Soon, the car slowed to a stop and the driver came around to open the door. I gave Chad a quizzical look. We'd only been driving for five minutes. "I thought we were going to Philly?"

"We are. By train," he said, then held out a hand. I waved him off. I didn't need help stepping out of the car. We walked into the train station, down the escalator, to the tracks, and into the first class car. It was quiet and air-conditioned, with leather-backed dove grey seats.

"Would you like the window seat, Sonny?" I nodded, then sat down, wishing I didn't find politeness, consideration and manners such a turn-on. He sat next to me, his leg brushing against mine. I should have shifted my body, moved a few inches away, but instead we simply stayed like that, legs touching, as the train pulled out of Manhattan and picked up speed. He answered emails on his phone, and I read some chapters in a business book that had been assigned in one of my classes.

As we sped through the suburbs on the way to his factory, I thought about the skater girl, and what I would ask her if she were my mentor. I'd want to hear the story in her own words of how she started her business. So I went with that, closing the book and speaking in my best curious student voice. Because that's how I was going to act with him.

"Would you tell me the story of Made Here? I've read the version on your Web site, but I'd love to hear it from you."

He put his phone away, and held my gaze, and in that second I felt an electricity, a tightly coiled line between the two of us. He had a way of making me feel as if he were touching me, even if we were inches apart. Maybe it was because he wasn't afraid to look me in the eyes, or to hold onto the look. Nor was he afraid to be close. Whatever the reason, the effect was heady, and it was dangerous. Perhaps I should pretend he really was the skater girl. I pictured him wearing cat's eye glasses and a black wig with pink streaks. There. I'd never been a fan of men in drag, so the image helped me focus.

"I suppose it all began when I was reassigned a few weeks after I started my first job out of graduate school. I was supposed to work in New York, but I was sent to Paris instead for a year…" he said and kept talking, but it was as if someone knocked me out of time. I thought he'd stayed in New York after he ended it with me. "You were there for a year?"

He nodded. "Yes. I was sent there right after…" his voice trailed off. Right after he broke up with me.

"It's okay. You can say it. I'm a big girl. Right after you broke up with me."

He sighed deeply. "Yes. I broke up with because of that."

I held out my hands. "See? That wasn't so hard to say. We just get it out there in the open and move on."

"Okay. So there it is. Out in the open."

"And now we go back to the whole we just met routine. Good?"

He nodded.

Then I turned to look out the window. We were passing through a beautiful town in Pennsylvania, rushing by farmhouses and stately white homes with impeccably trimmed green lawns and shrubs.

He peered out the window too, his body moving closer to mine, doing that thing he did where he migrated into my space. I could feel his chest against my arm as we watched the towns zoom by. Soon, he reached his arm across my back, his hand touching my shoulder. Technically, it was the sort of thing friends might do.

But it didn't feel like we were friends. It didn't even feel like flirting. It felt like foreplay.

And I didn't want to pretend anymore.

I didn't want to be mean anymore.

I didn't want to toss barbs at him anymore.

I wanted him to touch me, so I didn't dare move. I didn't risk a look or a glance. The moment was full of too much heat that I didn't trust myself. I thought I was over him. I thought he'd earned the spot I'd tucked him in back in the far corner of my mind. I was wrong. I had been forcing him there for five years. Because now, with him by my side, inches away, looking out the window of a racing train, I knew all I'd done was white knuckle it through. I'd faked my way through every other relationship, when all I was doing was resisting him. He was the only one I'd ever wanted like this, and my body was on fire for him.

He leaned in to whisper to me, and I closed my eyes. I felt as if I might collapse into him.

"The towns are so pretty, Sonny. Don't you think?"

"Yes," I managed to say without melting in-to his arms.

"And sometimes, I think, they're even prettier five years later. Just like you. You're even prettier now, and you were beautiful then." I wanted to turn my face towards his and let him devour me in kisses, let his hands find their way underneath my shirt, and onto my skin. I could see kisses on my neck, lips on my belly, legs wrapped around him. It was almost too much to bear. I tried to shake the images – these pictures of him on me, in me, under me – but they'd staked out a home.

Somewhere, there was a modicum of restraint in me, because I didn't answer him.

Soon, the train pulled into our stop. We both rose, and I noticed his cheeks were flushed.

He looked at me, his eyes darker than usual, full of unsaid things.


	12. Author's Note

Hello, I am thinking to move the ratings of the story from T to M. Would you all prefer that or do you want me to have no adult scenes in the story?

Please tell me your views. Thank you


	13. Getting Hot in the Office

**Wow, the reviews skyrocketed. Thank you for your views, I would like to have those reviews for my every post. One of the guests asked me to keep it T, I am moving it to M rating but I assure it would be a sweet love between Chad and Sonny. Please don't stop reading my story. Thank you!**

**As T and M, the story goes the same line. T wouldn't have had the description and M does **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

The factory was loud and busy. Machines whirred, conveyor belts hummed, parts rattled and people chatted. Chad gave me the guided tour of the whole operation, stopping along the way to talk with his employees, from the managers who ran the facilities to some of the men and women at the end of the line. We popped into a quieter area with glass walls where a dozen people in white lab coats were doing the finishing work on the cufflinks, tie clips and money holders.

There were some hoots and cheers as we left and headed to Chad's office on the second floor. His assistant, Portlyn, cradled a phone receiver as she scribbled down elaborate notes.

She was cute and perky, and had a librarian sexiness to her with black glasses and brown hair fastened in a bun. I wonder if Chad has ever been with her.

Chad held the door for me, and I followed him. Chad's workspace was simple, with a large wooden desk, a grey couch, a navy blue chair, and a few framed awards on the wall. We chatted for the next hour about the manufacturing process, his distribution strategy and the supply chain challenges he'd been facing lately. Portlyn knocked on the door, and then asked if we wanted anything from the cafeteria.

"The usual for me," Chad said. "Sonny? You want something?"

"Just an iced tea would be great."

Chad tilted his head as if he were trying to figure me out. I was throwing him curveballs.

He'd expected one thing from me, but I gave him another.

As she left, Chad asked me more questions about My Favorite Mistakes and how I envisioned growing the business. The truth was I didn't entirely know, and I admitted that. Soon, Portlyn returned with an iced tea and a coffee.

As she handed Chad the coffee, I pictured her tripping and spilling it on his shirt and then fumbling through cleaning it up like on a bad sitcom. But she was graceful and poised.

Portlyn left, and closed the door behind her.

Chad sat down in his chair, looking at some files and not paying close attention. Then, he spilled his coffee on himself.

I was laughing. "I'm so sorry for laughing," I said in between big chuckles. "That was just so unexpected. It's usually the other person who spills the coffee. You don't usually spill it on yourself."

His eyes widened. "Evidently, I'm the world's biggest dork."

"It didn't burn you, did it?"

He shook his head as he stood up, placing the half-empty cup on the low table. The front of his white shirt was covered in a coffee-colour blotch. "No, it wasn't that hot. I can't stand the way some places make their drinks scalding, so Portlyn always makes sure it's a civilized temperature." Wow, Portlyn takes care of Chad's needs. Am I jealous? No, that cannot be now, can it be?

He walked to a small closet in the corner of the office and took out a new shirt. "I guess I better change."

"I'll leave," I offered, and started to rise.

"I don't mind. Unless it makes you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable was not the word I'd use. More like turned on. When I looked over at Chad, he was already unbuttoning his shirt, and I was quite simply rooted to my seat. Chad reached his cufflinks, and I watched as he deftly removed them, then laid them on top of a nearby bookshelf. He took off the shirt, and rested it on the back of a chair. He wore a white tee-shirt underneath.

"Your tee-shirt is stained too."

He glanced at the front of his shirt. "Let's call this a major win for you then." He winked at me.

I sucked in a breath as he removed his tee-shirt. All my anger slinked away, all my hurt crept out quietly. I was left only with the one thing that had never been far away for the last five years – desire for him.

I stared and I didn't try to play it cool. He was hot, and I wanted to enjoy the view. His chest was broad and firm, his arms strong, and his stomach as flat as the earth was rumoured to be before Columbus discovered the truth. There was the slightest trace of hair running from his belly button to the waistband of his jeans, disappearing beneath his clothes suggestively. He reached for a fresh tee-shirt in the closet, and a crisp, clean button-down too.

Fuck it.

Fuck the act. Fuck the cool girl routine.

So much for my plan to be tough, to be civil, to be immune to his charms. I threw that playbook out the window and started writing a new one – one that was filled with payoff. This was the real starting over, because he'd called me pretty, he'd remembered my coffee drink, he'd told me he was glad to see me. This wasn't one-sided and I was going to take what I wanted most right now. To be touched. To be kissed.

I removed my bulletproof vest, and spoke my mind. "Come here."

He walked to the back of the couch and leaned down, his face inches from me.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Hi."

"Can I?" he asked, and then reached a hand into my hair, letting my dark brown strands fall through his fingers. I leaned into his hand, like a cat, as my answer. I wouldn't be surprised if I had started purring.

"Sonny," he said in a hungry voice.

I looked into his eyes, those deep blue eyes that drew me in. "I need you to kiss me now," I said, as if it were a command.

"Consider it done."

I closed my eyes as his lips brushed mine with a softness, tenderness and eagerness all wrapped up in one. I felt as if the whole office, the factory, the city was gone. There was nothing else but this kiss and I melted into him, as I had with all our kisses five years ago. But then, there was something new, something less innocent, as the kiss shifted into another gear. The way his lips suddenly crushed mine was feverish. It was frenzied, and it was electric, and full of need. I needed to feel him. I needed to touch him. I explored his arms, traversing the shape and size of his forearms and the strength in them, and then outlining the sharp contours of his flexed biceps, until I returned to his chest, then down to his belly, so trim and tight that I longed to touch and trace and hold onto his perfectly cut waist all through the day and the night. He stopped, moving to the door, locking it this time, then returning to the couch with me.

"We can't go all the way. Not even close," I said, holding up my hand as a stop sign to sex.

"I'm good with that. But we don't have much time for anything."

"Do you want to stop then?"

He shook his head, and nodded to the bulge in his jeans. "Hell no."

He wanted me as much as I wanted him.

But did he like me too? Or was I just the girl who was hot for him and so, why not? A part of me knew better. A part of me knew I should pull back the reins. But there was a bigger part of me in that moment that didn't care. Because my body had no questions and no qualms. Inside all I felt was the weight of five pent-up years of missing him. My mind was a jumble, a mixed-up mess of hurt and want, but I didn't know how to sort out the crazy rush of thoughts, and frankly, I didn't want to. I was burning for him, so I let my body lead me on.

I touched his soft, thick hair that I'd missed running my hands through, then traced the back of his neck in a way that made him groan. Chad's hands drifted lower, down to my waist, and I didn't stop him. I wanted his hands every-where. All over me. He shifted me over, pulling me on top of him so I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. I straddled him on the couch, my knees on either side of his hips, our clothes still all the way on, my flowing skirt spread across his thighs.

I began to move my hips barely, subtly, with my bikini underwear and his jeans forming a layered barricade between our bodies. I closed my eyes again, kissing him, grinding against him, feeling like I was in high school again, where having clothes on doesn't stop you from getting off. His hands slipped underneath my top and made their way to my breasts, and the way he touched me with such tenderness and such desire made me gasp.

My lips fell away from him and I buried my face in the crook of his neck. The temperature in me soared as I pulled his chest to me, thrilling at the feel of his body rubbing against mine.

His hands dipped under my skirt, touching the back of my thighs in a way that made me race even more. He hadn't even gotten into my panties and I was already so close.

"It's not going to take me long," I told him.

"Nothing would make me happier than to make you come," he said, and then managed to slide a hand between my legs. The slightest touch was all I needed. I moved my hips as his fingers hit just the right spot. I pressed myself against his hand, moving up and down, as I moaned in the lowest voice possible in his ear.

"Chad, it feels so good."

"Sonny, you have no idea…"

He layered kisses on my neck as I kept up the rhythm I needed. He gripped my waist firmly, keeping my body close, making sure I would make it all the way. Then I bit my lip as the intensity tore through me. There was no just about, no almost, no close but no cigar. I pressed my mouth to his shoulder to muffle my sounds, then collapsed onto his chest. We remained quiet for a moment, only the sounds of machines far away flickering in the background.

"That was so unbelievably sexy," he said.

"Really?"

"If I kept a diary, which I don't I assure you, this would go down as one of the hottest moments ever."

"I can still feel it. Like in my whole body. I can feel it all over. How good it was with you." I was vulnerable and I didn't care. I was in the afterglow and the flush made me say things to him that I would have kept secret if I hadn't just come in his office. I trailed my hand across his chest and looked in his eyes. "Let me touch you." Before he could answer, Portlyn's voice boomed through the buzzer. "Hi, Chad. Just a reminder you have your board call in ten minutes"

Chad cursed under his breath. "Thanks, Portlyn," he said in a perfectly professional voice. He could easily switch gears. When she hung up, he looked at me, and the longing had been stripped from his eyes. He was a man ready to conduct business. "I have to do this." I heard the echo of I have to go and I felt myself hardening. I put my shell back on as I adjusted my skirt and smoothed away the just-been-screwed look in my hair, thinking the saying was appropos for many reasons. I was nothing more than a quickie in the office to him. That was it. That was all. I took some small solace in the fact that we hadn't gone that far. Fine, he'd seen me as turned on as I'd ever been my whole life over, but at least we'd done nothing more than kids in high school do.

That's all we'd ever be. Teenagers bumbling through adulthood, not knowing what to do or say. But what he didn't say spoke volumes. He didn't say he liked me. He didn't say he was sorry for breaking my heart. He didn't ask me to have dinner. He simply said, "I need to focus on this call."

"Of course." I downshifted to my crisp and business-like tone. I could toe to toe with him in this department. He pulled on his tee-shirt, then his dress shirt.

"But let's take the train back to New York. The four o'clock, okay?"

"Sure." I gathered my bag and my books.

"I'll just be —" I said and waved in the general direction outside his office.

He settled into his desk chair, but his eyes were already on the computer screen. He sighed heavily and dropped his forehead into his hand. "Fuck," he said in a low voice, and I suspected he wasn't going to have a very good phone call with the board.

Served him right with the way he was blowing me off.

I grabbed my iced tea, left his office, and said goodbye to Portlyn. Then I called a cab as soon as I left the factory. There was a two-thirty train back to New York that had my name written all over it.

**Please tell me what you think about the chapter and sorry I posted this chapter late**


	14. The Make up

**Sonny took the two-thirty train. Thank you for the reviews and favourites. Hope you enjoy the chapter and please review it **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

Maybe I should see someone. A date is exactly what I'd need to get Chad Dylan Cooper and his too-business-like approach out of my system. Maybe it was time to return to actors and other artists. Chad had called me a few times after I took off from his factory that afternoon, but I didn't pick up. He emailed too. He wanted to know where I was. If I was okay. If something was wrong.

My reply was simple: I forgot I had an appointment in the city. The factory is amazing, and I am learning so much.

I didn't say anything more, and certainly not anything personal, and definitely not a thanks for the O! He didn't reply, and his radio silence the rest of the evening affirmed that I'd made the right choice to bail.

The next few weeks raced by in a blur of classes and homework for my Innovation & Design class and my Management course. All things considered, the work and the business were the easiest parts of those weeks. The real challenge, and I hoped to earn an A for avoidance, was steering clear of one-on-time with Chad when I went to his midtown offices as part of the mentorship. The first time there, I attended a meeting as the design team presented the new additions to the holiday line for his approval. I left the conference room quickly when it ended, but he followed me down the hall, calling out to me.

"Hey Sonny," he said.

I stopped, turned around, and adopted a how-can-I-help-you look?

"Um, I'd love to know what you thought about the new additions?" he asked, but he didn't sound like the same guy who'd just signed off on a new series of cufflinks. He sounded nervous.

"They're just great," I said, then gave him a double thumbs up, like a politician.

"Do you want to sit down and talk some more? I'd really love your detailed feedback." I looked at my watch for effect. "Oh. Darn. I would, but I have an evening lecture I need to get to in twenty minutes. I have to go."

Then I marched off to the elevators, hoping the last words were not lost on him.

He tried again the next week when I ran in-to him at the water cooler, and he awkwardly asked me to check out copy for an ad slated to run in GQ.

"You're reviewing ad copy now?" I asked in a questioning tone. I'd never known CEOs to be involved at the level of ad copy. A CEO's role in marketing was more at a budget and branding level.

"Yeah. Sure. I always do," he said, but his cheeks turned red, as if it were simply an excuse. I followed him to his office, but stood in the doorway, forcing him to bring the ad sample to me.

"Maybe just move the tagline over here," I said crisply, and pointed to the left hand corner of the photo. "I have to go now."

Next day, we had a meeting with the operational team. I glanced at Chad for a moment. Chad's features were tight and he was rubbing his hand over his chin. His blue eyes were hard and intense. He didn't look at me once, and that was fine with me.

The meeting continued on like that for another hour, and when it ended without a clear resolution from anyone, Chad said he was going for run. I took that as a cue to leave. Besides, I needed time and space away for my research. I stopped in the temporary office to grab my bag, and then headed for the elevator banks. I sucked in a breath when I saw Chad there, wearing a grey tee-shirt and running shorts. He pressed the down button.

"Hey." His jaw was still tight. The stress of the meeting was taking its toll.

"Going for a run?" I said, then wanted to kick myself. Not only was it patently obvious he was about to exercise, he'd also announced it.

"Running helps me think. I swear I do my best problem solving on the trails and bike paths."

"I find I do a great job keeping track of how much I never want to run again when I'm running."

Chad's features softened and I saw the sliver of a smile form. "That's right. You're all about walking."

The elevator arrived and he held out his hand. I stepped in first and stood in the opposite corner. "I've been known to traverse the city on foot. I dare anyone to take me on in a walkathon."

"Quite a dare. I'd love to take you on." I looked away.

He drummed his fingers against the elevator bar as the car descended. "So does walking help you think? What do you do to blow off steam or escape or whatever?"

"I go to the movies."

The elevator reached the first floor. As the door opened, he said my name in that smoky voice. "Sonny."

There was a pang of remorse in his tone. Instinctively, I took a step closer, all my self-preservation falling away.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

"Nothing." He was ice again. He repeated the word as he walked out of his building, and started running the second he hit the sidewalk.

The cinema around the corner was showing the newest Emma Stone movie, but I couldn't stomach romance now. I bought a ticket for a Ryan Gosling action flick. I needed improbable car chases and ridiculously implausible getaways. I slinked down into a seat in the back, leaving the looming pile of homework, necklace orders and the supply chain issues untouched for the next two hours.

There were only a few other people in the theatre for the mid-afternoon showing on a Thursday. Some solo movie goers had snagged seats near the front, and there were two pairs of friends in the middle rows. Maybe they were blowing off steam too.

When Ryan Gosling scaled an impossibly high ledge, I caught a flicker of movement at the back of the theatre. I turned to look, and I froze when I saw Chad. He was still in his workout clothes, and even in the dark I could see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow and his tee-shirt. He scanned the aisles, and when he spotted me, he didn't look happy. His jaw was tense again as he walked across the aisle. His eyes were lined with anger, and his fists were clenched. He sat down, turned to me, and placed a hand on my cheek so I was looking at him.

"You're making me crazy," he whispered in a hard voice.

"I am? Why?"

"You act like nothing happened."

"What are you talking about?"

"How can you just be like this? Like it was nothing what happened?"

"How can you?"

"I called you that day. I emailed you that afternoon. You totally blew me off, and I've been looking for every chance to talk to you."

"You haven't been trying that hard."

"Bullshit, Sonny. I've tried to talk to you every time you've been by and you know it." One of the guys a few rows ahead turned around and gave us a dirty look.

Chad lowered his voice further. "Do you have any idea what I'm going through at work?"

"No. Why would I?"

The guy looked back again. "Keep it down, okay?"

I tipped my forehead to the exit. Chad took me by the elbow and guided us out. As the door to the theatre swung shut, we were alone in the dark hallway.

"I'm doing everything to keep it quiet, and you can't say a word. Promise me you won't say a word." His voice was laced with equal parts stress and fear.

"I promise." I wanted to reach out and run a hand gently over his cheek. He seemed to need it, but I kept my hands to myself.

He took a deep breath. "Sonny, I have been involved with a very important project lately, it's very important. Our life depends on it. I cannot tell you about it now. You got to trust me on this. The company operations and that project has stressed me out but I got to act professional in front my board which makes it really incredibly difficult when all I want to do is finish what we started." Everything inside of me turned hot. "You do?"

"I have not been able to stop thinking about that afternoon. I have not been able to stop thinking about you."

My heart leapt into my throat. "Really?" He moved closer. He was so dizzyingly near to me it was as if every nerve ending in my body was exposed. The possibility that this wasn't one-sided made me deliriously giddy.

That it was more than just a romp on the couch in his office.

"I think about you all the time. I think about how beautiful you are and how smart you are and how funny you are, and how I want nothing more than to take you out to the movies, and hold your hand and laugh at the same time. Or not even at the same time. To laugh at different things. To learn more about what you think is funny. Do you like pratfalls?"

His eyes were sparkling and playful.

I grinned so wide my face would hurt, but I didn't think I could feel anything except happiness right now. "I love pratfalls. I love non-sequitur humour, and I love dark humour, and I especially love stupid humour.

And what about you? What do you laugh at? I mean, besides Bucky from Get Fuzzy."

"Ah, she remembers."

"Of course I remember." I punched him in the arm, and even though I wanted him to touch me all over, it meant so much more to me that he wanted to talk. That he wanted to know me.

How I'd changed. How I hadn't changed.

"I remember everything too," he said softly, and I felt a ribbon of heat rush through my body.

"To answer your question. Cartoon cats are still a yes. I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but I like those silly Internet pictures with dogs saying ridiculous things. I mean, not really saying ridiculous things. Just captions. Like this one husky dog, and there was a caption that said 'Oh you ran a marathon. How heavy was the sled?'"

"I saw that one too. I loved it.

"What about movies? What are your favorite movies?"

"Well just in case the guys committee is listening I'll tell you The Fast and The Furious. Or The Hangover." Then he lowered his voice and whispered. "But I'll admit to you, only you, that it's actually Casablanca."

Pinch me now, I thought. Wake me up from this dream.

Because right then, I closed my eyes and watched that perfect film unfurl in front of me, a romance that left you breathless no matter how many times you'd seen it. I could feel myself sinking into that heady state, like I was under a spell, transfixed, and I could touch the scenes, feel every sensation the characters felt zip through me.

I felt wobbly, and I swayed toward him. He caught me, and wrapped his arms around me, tucking me close to him. He pressed his chin against my head. "Sonny."

I melted into him, savouring the feel of his chest, even under his sweaty tee-shirt, against me. Here with him, I didn't have a care in the world. Even though being with him was the riskiest thing in the world. I closed my eyes and flashed back to my parents, to the store, to my plans. Then to Professor Oliver and my business. Everything else was so much more important than a mere feeling. I knew that.

I really did. But yet, I didn't want anything more in my life right now than this moment, this closeness, this man.

"I'm dying to kiss you. I want to take you out to dinner, and walk around the city, and talk about anything and everything."

I could barely feel myself anymore. My whole body was edgy, floating. This couldn't be happening. But it was. I felt light-headed, like I'd just taken a painkiller and gotten that warm flush where it kicks in and spreads throughout your chest and belly. The little hairs on my arms were standing on end.

He placed a hand under my chin and lifted my face so I was looking at him. His lips were so close to me. "I have a business trip to go to but maybe I can call you?"

"Of course."

"Can I call you tonight?"

I was a pinball machine, buzzing and humming, saying yes, yes, yes.

He shook his head appreciatively. "Do you have any idea how cute do you look right now?"

"No." I answered with a chuckle

Then he pulled me against him for a moment, and I could tell exactly how hot I'd made him.


	15. The Phone Call

**Hey, I am glad to know you'll liked my chapter. I get you TwistedDefault and R thank you for the consistent support.**

**I like it when I get some ideas from my readers and I can mix them with mine. Thanks to XRock-HardX, I didn't know what excuse Chad could have for avoiding Sonny and you gave the idea of being busy with some important work. And I will be using your other idea that you gave me as well (:**

**There will be only a few more chapters. I am so excited that I feel like posting two chapters a day.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

My phone was mocking me. It was sneering, as I carried it around like a lifeline leashed to me, a hard brick reminder that I was waiting for a call.

I wandered into the kitchen and reached for an apple from the basket on the table.

I wanted to do that with Chad. I wanted to walk down the street with him. To kiss him in public. To share a car back to his place, my place, any place. But then, I'd also take what I could get, so when my phone finally rang, I pounced on it.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's Chad."

My heart leapt. I was the girl in high school, waiting for the quarterback to call. Fine, I'd never dated a football player, and I didn't even care for most sports. But I bet the zing I felt was precisely the same.

"Hey. What are you up to?"

"Talking to you."

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn't see me. Now we really sounded like teenagers again.

"Same to you," I said, as I placed the half-eaten apple on the coffee table.

"What'd you do tonight?"

I gave him the rundown, then asked the same of him.

"Work, work, and more work. But the best part is to have a talk with this amazingly brilliant MBA student I'm working with."

I bounced on my toes. "Really?

"Yes and you have no idea about how beautiful she is"

"You must totally date her then" I heard Chad chuckle on the other side.

"I shall ask her out soon"

"Damn. I rock."

"You totally and completely rock."

"So where are you right now?" I asked as I walked down the hall to my bedroom. Tawni was visiting her parents. I had the apartment all to myself.

"My apartment. Finally. Car just dropped me off."

"So calling me was the first thing you did when you got home? Nice."

"I walked in two minutes ago."

"I don't even know where you live." I shut the door to my bedroom and lay down on my bed. The one luxury I afforded myself was the bedding. A shimmery purple duvet covered the bed, with pillows in rich shades of red and dark blue. "Sixtieth and Park."

I wanted to whistle in admiration. I pictured the block perfectly, seeing it on a rain-soaked night, the quiet street glistening, lined with beautiful brick brownstones. He probably lived in one of those buildings. Double doors, four stories, hardwood floors, white-paned windows that opened on the kind of street that romantic comedy heroines strolled down, holding hands with their lovers.

"What's on tap the rest of the night? More work?"

"I'm calling it a night on the work front. No more email, no more reports. I'm just kicking back on my couch talking to this girl with my cell phone pressed against my head. I'm probably getting a brain tumour."

"You're not one of those Bluetooth people?

You haven't been walking around with the head-set in your ear all evening?"

"God no. I can't stand the Bluetooth."

"They do that constantly in New York. On buses, on subways. Even in stores. They leave those damn things on all the time."

"Maybe they are waiting to receive messages from the Bluetooth Uni-mind."

"Oh, I can so picture that."

"So, you've finagled my Bluetooth secret, Sonny. What else do you want to know?"

I shifted to my side, and played with the tassel on one of my purple pillows. What did I want to know about Chad? "I got it. The beach or the cliff"

"The beach, of course. I always am busy with the company and if I get the rest time I would spend it relaxing than climbing a cliff."

"Alright lazy ass"

"Hey! I am not a lazy ass"

"Yes, you are a bad boy, aren't you?"

He didn't answer right away. He must have been weighing the question and what I really meant. I wasn't sure what I really meant. "Do you want me to be a bad boy?"

I rested my head on the pile of pillows. "I don't know," I answered honestly. "I just want you to be yourself."

"What would you do?"

"If I were with you right now?"

"Yes."

"Where are you?"

"On my bed."

He was quiet, but I could hear him breathing, and I pictured his chest rising and falling as he stared up at the ceiling of his brownstone on Sixtieth and Park, closing his eyes, imagining me so many blocks away. "What are you wearing?"

"Jeans. Black cami with a Hello Kitty design."

"Ah, of course. I believe you once said it was a life-long love, you and Hello Kitty."

"We're still going strong."

"And underneath?"

"Black bikini briefs with a light blue stripe."

"So you want to know what I'd do if I were with you right now?"

"Yes."

"I wouldn't kiss you yet. I'd touch your naked skin. I'd run my fingers down your arms, and watch as you shivered at my touch." I closed my eyes and listened.

"I'd kiss your belly through your shirt, and you'd wriggle a little bit, trying to tell me with your body that you wanted more."

I murmured something about wanting more.

"Then I'd come up for a kiss, hovering over you, my arms on each side of you."

I longed to touch his arms, to trace how toned and strong they were.

"I'd kiss you for the longest time, and you'd be pressing your hands against my back, wanting more."

"I would," I managed to say, as I started to unbutton my jeans.

"And when I was sure, absolutely, totally, completely sure that you were turned on beyond a shadow of a doubt —"

"—Which I would be."

"Which you would be. I'd return to your stomach, and I'd start to lift up your cami thing.

And I'd run my tongue across your belly, and I'd take off your top. And I'd finally be able to see those gorgeous breasts of yours in the flesh."

"And touch them."

"God yes. I'd cup them in my hands and lick them, and I'd run my tongue from between your breasts down to your jeans, and at that point you'd be unzipping them."

"I already have."

"Are your pants off?"

I skimmed off my jeans, pushing them to the foot of my bed. "Yes."

"Is your shirt off too?"

"No."

"Take it off."

I put the phone on the bedcover and pulled off my tank top. Then I pressed the phone to my ear. "I'm back."

"And are you just in your underwear now?"

"Yes."

"Touch yourself, Sonny."

I did as instructed.

"Are you wet?"

"Understatement of the year."

He laughed lightly. "Good. Because if I were there right now, I'd be the one touching you, feeling how turned on you are. Running my hand between your legs, and you'd be moaning, and moving your hips, and wanting so badly for me to take off your underwear."

"Would you? Take off my underwear?" The question came out in quick breaths, as I followed his direction. My hand was between my legs, and I wished he were the one touching me.

But this — this was good enough for now.

"I'd kiss you through your underwear first just to tease you and make you crazy. I'd lean down, and I'd kiss those black bikini briefs and I'd get even harder."

"I'd want to touch you so badly."

"I know, but I wouldn't let you. Because I'd have to taste you, and you'd be begging me to take off your underwear, and to touch you with my tongue. And it's all I'd want to do too. So I'd oblige your request."

I slid out of the last shred of clothing.

"Did you just take off your underwear?"

"Yes."

"Is your hand between your legs?"

"Yes."

"Are you imagining it's me?"

"Yes. I want you so much."

"There is absolutely nothing in the entire world I want to be doing more right now than going down on you, and tasting you, and eating you. I would run my tongue across you and you would put your hands in my hair."

"I love your hair," I said, and the image of my hands in his hair sent me soaring. It wasn't going to take me long at all.

"And I'd start off slow and light, and I'd tease you with my tongue, tracing you and tasting your wetness. God, I bet you taste fucking fantastic. And you'd whimper and moan, and tell me how good it feels."

"It feels amazing. It feels so incredible." My whole body was lit up; I was ignited all over. Every part of me begged and yearned for him. "And I'd speed up, running my tongue over you in ways you've never felt before. And you'd tell me how it had never been this good, how you'd never wanted anyone like this before."

"I haven't. I swear I haven't," I said, and my breathing was ragged, and my body was pulsing, and I could feel how intoxicatingly close I was to grabbing his hair and pulling his face between my legs. Oh, how I wished he were the one touching me.

"And I'd take you there. I'd lick you and make you crazy and make you say my name over and over, until you were begging to come.

Until you were begging me to make you come."

"Oh god, Chad. Make me come. Please, make me come."

"I'm so going to make you come, Sonny. I'm going to make you come with my mouth and my lips and my tongue and I am going to taste you right now as you come in my mouth."

And so I did, shouting his name, calling out, feeling the wave of an intense, other worldly orgasm pound through me. I was a live wire, exposed and beating, and I wanted him to be with me right now, taking off his clothes, climbing on top of me, entering me, making me feel that way again and again and again.


	16. Chapter 16

**I tried writing in Chad's words but it didn't turn to be good enough. Even if the story is going on in Sonny's words, both Chad's and Sonny's feelings are expressed and girls can voice love and relationships better than guys (:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

When I saw him at his office for the mentor-protégé time, we pretended we were good boys and girls who hadn't done things. One afternoon, I joined him and his team for an operational meeting in the conference room to discuss the supply chain plans for the upcoming quarter, and I practiced the fine art of restraint as I kept my gaze on my notes the whole time. Only once, did I meet his eyes, and when I did I saw as much desire in his as I felt.

But the spectre of his conservative board as well as the lawsuit hung over us, so I shelved all my dirty ideas, especially since we had an appointment at Professor Oliver's office that same day for a mid-term check-in.

He pulled three chairs into a circle, and Chad and I sat next to each other, inches apart, eyes on Oliver the whole time.

"Ms. Monroe, tell me about the business challenges that you've weighed in on at Made Here."

"I've been able to devise solutions for some of the supply chain complications that have arisen, from new timeframes to replacement suppliers," I said, and then shared more of the details of the projects we'd worked on.

Chad jumped in. "I can't underestimate the value of this input, Professor. For instance, Ms. Monroe's swift and well-researched recommendation for a new vendor singlehandedly allowed us to stay on track with one of our key accounts."

Professor Oliver beamed, then asked more questions we took turns answering. When the meeting was done, Chad and I left together, getting a kick out of having pulled it off.

Later that night, Chad called and asked what I'd been thinking about during the meeting.

"The one with my professor?"

He laughed. "No. The one in my conference room when you gave me this look as if you were doing very naughty things to me with your mouth."

"Oh, you caught on?"

"Of course. So tell me."

"I was imagining crawling under the conference room table and going down on you while you asked your team for supply chain recommendations."

"Whoa."

"You asked. I answer." Chad chuckled

"Oh, I like that answer a lot. I didn't know you had such a dirty mind Monroe"

"I learnt what my mentor taught me."

Chad was laughing on the other side "You make me sound like a sex school teacher"

It was my turn to laugh "I would have loved to be your student in that case"

"That is not happening anytime soon but that doesn't mean I cannot have you"

"You cannot" I answered

"Why?"

"I have to study."

"Better get back to study Sonny. I want my baby to have an A+ on her report"

"Yes, Chad. Now go to sleep"

After a caffeine-fuelled night of studying business tomes till the wee hours of the morning, I powered through a brutal test in one of my courses. When I filed the exam at the end of the class, submitting it from my laptop, I felt relatively good about my prospects of earning a strong grade. Marks in graduate school were less important than in high school or college since this was the end of the road for me as far as school was concerned. But I wanted to do well so I'd have the skills to grow My Favorite Mistakes. Maybe someday I could even turn it into a business-like Made Here, with a board, stock-holders, employees and revenues with many zeroes. The business geek in me relished that thought as I left the class, headed down the wide wooden staircase to the first floor, and pushed open the door into the late October air.

Fall had coasted into Manhattan, bringing with it crisp air, and the temporary rush of gold and red leaves on the trees in the parks. I looped my orange scarf with white stars around my neck, and pushed on a pair of champagne-coloured sunglasses to block out the bright midday rays. My brown boots clicked against the sidewalk as I checked my email for messages. There were no emails, no love notes, and no sweet whispers. But I knew Chad was too stressed out about his work. As the train clattered through the tunnels, a quick burst of unease swept through me.

I thought of all the jokes Chad and I made about acting.

We were acting in front of Professor Oliver.

We were acting in front of the board. Acting as if we were nothing. But what if it was all an act?

What if we were nothing? Because, really, we weren't anything. We didn't go out to dinner, to the movies, to the grocery store. We didn't leave my building holding hands. Because he'd never been to my building. Was he using me for sex? Or, rather, sex talk? Sure, we always chatted before and after. Every day I learned something new about him. I could tell you he liked French toast for breakfast, that he was a rabid baseball fan, and that he played Words with Friends on his phone with some of the guys at the factory.

Did that mean anything though? I didn't know if we were a thing, or would ever be one. I didn't want to be just a toy, a treat, an easy 900-number away. I wanted to be more. I want to be his everything.

The air felt colder as I emerged at Seventy-Seventh Street, as if October had taken a cruel turn into winter. Or maybe the cold was inside me, in my bones, as I found a new worry to gnaw on. I'd been having so much fun getting off that I hadn't bothered to ask myself what was next.


	17. An accident

**I have a short Chad's view in the middle of the chapter (: and Chad would have to give up as a mentor in order to sustain the relationship but without Chad as his mentor Sonny could not pass the class. You would have to wait and read what happens next. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

**Sonny's View:**

I left for class the next morning still surrounded by the sense that there were unwanted eyes on me. I jumped when I saw a black town car at the curb. Chad's driver was waiting by the door.

"Hi. Chad Dylan Cooper sent me for you." I had half a mind to say thanks, but no thanks "Excuse me. Where's Chad?"

"He asked me to drive you wherever you need for the next few days."

"Why?"

"He didn't say."

I rooted around in my bag for my phone.

This situation was veering too close to my college ex-boyfriend Michael, and I wasn't someone who craved danger like a drug. But my phone was nowhere in sight. Then I remembered Tawni had dismantled it, and I'd somehow gotten so used to the few hours of being phone-less that I hadn't even looked for it this morning.

The driver took me to class and I expected him to drop me off curb side. Instead, he stepped out of the car, scanned the street in each direction and then placed a hand on my back and led me into the building, as if he were a secret agent on my security detail.

"What the heck is going on?"

"Just getting you safely to class, Ms. Monroe."

"Is there a reason I wouldn't get safely to class?" I asked

"I'll be here when class ends," the driver replied and that was clearly all the information I was getting.

Sure enough, the driver was waiting inside the lobby of the business school building in the early afternoon. I started walking towards the main door, but he gestured down the hallway, wrapped a hand around my elbow, and guided me to a back door that led to the building's rarely used service exit. There, the car was waiting.

"Is someone going to tell me what's going on with the cloak and dagger?"

"Just following orders," he said, as he started the car.

"Fine. Then can you take me uptown?" I gave him the address of a café.

Then, as we idled in the stalled Park Avenue traffic, I heard the driver's phone ring. My ears pricked as he answered.

"Hello?"

In his pause, I could make out the gravelly sound of the other voice. Nicole Blazer, Chad's manager

"Yes?"

A pause.

"She's with me right now."

Another pause, and a strange fear ricocheted through my body.

"I'll bring her now."

He ended the call and looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "Nicole says Chad has been asking for you."

Nicole placed a gentle hand on my arm.

"His hand is pretty banged up, and it looks like he might have broken one of the bones in it.

"What on earth happened?"

Nicole held open the pristinely painted white door that led into the foyer of Chad's four-story brownstone on Sixtieth and Park.

"We were meeting with Wilco's attorneys this afternoon to review the wrongful termination suit and attempt to settle. We were all there, and it was going fine, and Chad stepped out for a minute, then walked back in, and Wilco whom Chad had fired from his company a month ago, blew a gasket. Stood up, sucker punched him in the gut, jammed him in the back, and smashed his hand into the table."

My eyes widened with shock. "Oh my god. That's awful."

She nodded. "His attorneys were totally freaked out. It all happened so quickly, and they didn't even know what to do. The security guard at the office rushed in and restrained Wilco, and when the police came a few minutes later, they found a knife in his coat pocket."

I placed my hand on my mouth. A tear slid down my cheek.

"He'd been skulking around here too. My place as well. Last night, he kept calling both of us all night, saying nasty things. That's why Chad sent his car for you this morning. To keep you safe all day." Nicole noticed my wet cheek and wrapped her arms around me. "Hey. You're okay. Everyone's okay. Wilco's in police custody now for assault and battery. And the attorneys dropped him as a client, so there's no more lawsuit."

"For now."

"For now. But really. That's all there is.

Right now."

"Where's Chad? How is he?"

Nicole tipped her forehead to the staircase.

"Upstairs on the living room couch. He's a little loopy right now. We took him to the hospital to get him checked out. His hand was pretty messed up, so they gave him some pain meds. Then he kept asking for you."

I felt some of the fear leave my body. "He did?" Nicole nodded. "He said he wanted to see you. He wanted me to call you."

She gestured to the stairs, and I followed her, unsure of what to expect. When I reached the living room, Chad was stretched out on the couch, his head resting on a pillow, the TV on a low volume. He was wearing a checked button-down shirt and dark grey pants, but his shoes were off, kicked onto the hardwood floor. The sleeves on his shirt had been rolled up a few times. There was a bruise on his cheek. He smiled at me as if I were the answer to any question. "Hey you."

I melted at the sound of his voice and the way he looked at me, his eyes so warm, and his smile so soft. I liked him even more when he was a little loopy from meds. I walked over to him. "Sit down."

I sat gingerly on the edge of the couch, not wanting to hurt him. I pointed to his bandaged hand.

**Chad's P.O.V**

Sonny cupped my cheek and asked "Does it hurt?"

"Not now. Those little white pills have worked their voodoo magic."

She laughed once. "I bet. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. And if I'd known all I had to do to get rid of a lawsuit was let him land a few punches, I'd have done it sooner."

"Don't say that."

"Sonny, do you want something to drink?" The question came from Nicole.

"I'm okay."

"Chad? More water?"

"How about a beer? When can I have one of those? Or maybe we should get champagne to celebrate the suit being dropped."

Nicole rolled her eyes, and headed upstairs.

"So"

"So," I smiled.

"Those pain meds must be good."

"Not as good as you." Then I reached into her hair with my un-bandaged hand and pulled her to me, bringing her lips to mine and kissing her softly. It was the thing I wanted most in the world, and I gave in to the kiss, to the way her lips knew mine, to the way she tasted sweet and salty at the same time. "Now I feel much better."

I placed my head on Sonny's lap and talked to her but the effects of the medicine were overtaking my body and I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

**Sonny's View**

Nicole didn't know everything. But she knew enough.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," she said, as we sat on the metal stools in Chad's kitchen while he dozed. Nicole's feet dangled; she looked even tinier on a stool.

"Really?"

"I noticed how he talked about you. And I think you're pretty brilliant too, but there was something else in his voice. It was always more vulnerable at those times."

I dropped my head in my hands. "I'm so obvious."

"No. You're just in love." Nicole sounded like a gruff, tough chick doling out truisms with that husky voice of hers.

"I guess it's obvious. But we're not supposed to be."

She waved a hand in the air. "When are we ever supposed to be? I mean, does it ever happen at the right time? I met my partner on a work project too. There are always complications in every relationship."

"So what did he say?" I was fishing for information, but I didn't care. We'd been so careful. I couldn't just accept the notion that suddenly all his concerns had flown out the window.

But it was more than that. I wanted to be something with him. I didn't want to be his phone booty call. I didn't want to be the girl who always had to lie low. I wanted to be out in the open and for real with him. All or nothing. That's what I wanted.

"I just asked him point blank at the hospital if he had a thing for you. He said yes." My heart fluttered, and even with Chad banged up downstairs I couldn't help but grin wildly. "And he was all worried about the board and how they'd look at this because of Wilco's affair."

"Wilco's affair?" I asked

"Wilco got involved physically with a seventeen year old intern"

"Oh. Is that why Chad fired him"

"Yes, Wilco was taking advantage of that little girl."

"That is why he wanted to be low."

"Yes, but you're twenty-three and not an employee." Nicole reached out and took my hand. She had this satisfied look in her eyes, like a good matchmaker pulling off a match. "So when I asked him if it was the real thing with you, and he said yes to that as well, I told him I'd talk to the board and to Caldwell in particular. The guy's conservative as hell, but he didn't freak out when I brought my partner to the holiday party last year so I think I can convince him." This was all I wanted. To be more than just playmates. To be a real thing. A rush of happiness warmed me all over.

"What about NYU though? And the mentor program?"

"I told Chad that as long as he is not your mentor, everything should be fine." Ah, there was a catch. There was always a catch. Without this class how would I graduate?


	18. Confession

**I had posted a story Hired Girlfriend. I had posted two chapters but didn't get any review so I removed it. I might post it again after this story ends and see if anybody is gonna like it. I personally like that story.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

You know when they tell you that you can have your cake and eat it too?

They're wrong.

You always have to pay the piper. You can't take the money and run.

As Nicole returned to her home, leaving me with a pint of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy, all I could think was Chad might be free and clear, but there was no way I could come out of this unscathed. Not now at least. Whatever we might be would have to go back on hold once again. I couldn't have him end the mentorship. I needed to finish school for a million reasons.

I went to the kitchen, feeling a bit like an intruder as I rooted around for two spoons. I'd never been in his place before, and now here I was, for all intents and purposes, taking care of him after a trip to the ER. I found a white wood-panelled drawer that held utensils. I grabbed two spoons, then two cloth napkins from the holder in the island and returned to the living room.

Chad was awake now, reading a book on his tablet. Night had fallen, so the only illumination was the screen. When he saw me, he put the tablet on the table. I surveyed his living room once more. The hardwood floors in his home were a polished blond, and the walls were eggshell, giving the room warmth. There were a few pieces of art on the walls — reproductions of the Magritte with an apple in front of a man's face, and one of Mark Rothko's abstract images in solid red. The couch was comfortable and classy in a dove grey colour, and the coffee table was made of a sheet of sturdy glass atop two brushed metal blocks. His tablet rested next to his wallet, and I noticed the crinkled edge of a tiny white bag sticking out of his wallet. The bag was well-worn, as if it had set up camp there for years.

Something about it felt vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place why.

I joined him on the couch, opened the pint and presented him with a spoon.

"My favorite. How did you know?"

"Nicole knew, silly."

He tapped his forehead with the spoon.

"Still a little slow on the uptake tonight."

"It's a good thing you haven't had the ice cream yet or you'd have a huge chocolate spot on your forehead."

He dug into the ice cream, and I joined him.

We ate quietly for a minute. After a few bites, he put the spoon down on the coffee table. I placed my spoon and the pint next to it. "Did Nicole tell you?" he asked.

"Tell me what?"

"Anything interesting?"

I shifted so I could look at him. "Maybe you should tell me something interesting." He swallowed, and the soft sleepiness of the crazy day disappeared. He was Chad again.

Strong and in control. There was no hemming and hawing. No lengthy preamble. He was direct and clear, as he looked me in the eyes. "I'm totally in love with you, Sonny."

I was speechless for a moment. Overcome.

This was the movie-like moment I'd wanted my whole life. Only it was real. It was happening.

And I was no longer sitting in the theatre in the dark, watching. I was the girl in the scene who was crazy for the boy.

And the boy loved me too.

I was a flood of colours. I was the centre of a sunburst, as my heart beat faster, and happiness rushed all throughout the freeways of the intersecting veins inside my body, filling me with everything good in the world.

"I'm so in love with you, Chad."

He kissed me again. This kiss was deeper, closer. I was careful with him, sensitive to his damaged hand, and the tender spot on his ribs where Wilco had slammed a fist. But the painkillers must have muted all that, because Chad seemed only to be enjoying every touch, every movement between us. My arms wrapped around his neck, while my hands worked their way up into his soft hair. His good hand pressed firmly onto my back, while his bandaged one rested by his side. I felt hungrier than I had that afternoon many weeks ago at the factory, but maybe that's just because I hadn't eaten anything for dinner. Then there were Chad's lips on mine, sweeter than the ice cream that would surely turn to a puddle if we kept going like this.

But we couldn't keep going like this. We had to stop. We had to put the whole thing on ice for real this time. No kissing. No office trysts. No phone calls.

I pulled back. "We need to talk."

He tensed, but then shifted to a sitting position and to his standard business voice. "Okay." I was reminded how quickly he could segue from one mode to another. I wasn't sure if this was an admirable trait or not.

"Nicole told me the advice she gave you.

That we could pursue a relationship or whatever." I found myself blushing and looking away when I said those words.

He smirked, then flashed that lopsided grin.

"A relationship or whatever? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Relationships or whatever?"

I pretended to punch his arm.

"Hey. I'm damaged goods now. Be careful."

"Anyway. So yeah. Relationship or whatever."

"Do we call it boyfriend-girlfriend these days? Or is that too high school? Lovers just seems so weird. Especially, since, you know, I haven't seen you fully naked yet."

"Okay. I thought we were being serious," I said, but it occurred to me that maybe he was avoiding the serious conversation.

"Fine. I'm serious."

"But we can't right now. You have to tell her that even if we're —" I stopped talking. I couldn't bring myself to say in love out loud. I was too afraid the words were a fragile bubble that might burst.

"In love," he said, completing the phrase.

"Yes. That we can't be involved until I graduate. Professor Oliver won't stand for hanky-panky or else an F, as you know. And I have to get my degree. Not just to get the investment, but because I want to. So we have to really, truly, for real this time put everything on hold. Yes, we could sneak around. Yes, we could try not to be caught. And maybe we'd be successful, but I just don't want to take the risk, especially with all that happened with Wilco. I feel like we only narrowly escaped. I want to do things the right way. I want to start over with you in the open, not in hiding."

I'd always swayed with him, bent to my own wishes to be with Chad no matter the cost.

But there was more at stake now than us. "So I guess what I'm saying is you kind of have to be my mentor. You can't recuse yourself or I might not be able to finish school."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're kind of giving me an order."

"Kind of. Or more like a request. Can you please let Nicole know you have to stay as my mentor for the next several weeks, and that we're going to be good boys and girls, and then when I graduate, we can…"

"Be together?"

"Yes. But we really have to cool it till then.

No taking chances. No calls. No nothing."

"I think I could be amenable to waiting for you under one condition."

"What's that?"

He put his good hand on my waist and gently pulled my chest to his. Then he whispered in my ear, his voice low and smoky.

"Let me touch you tonight."

"Chad! That's not fair."

"Fair to who?"

"You're all hopped up on pain meds. I'm not going to take advantage of you."

He scoffed. "First off, you could never take advantage of me. I will always want you."

"But we're supposed to be behaving! Didn't we just agree to that?"

"Yeah. But think of me like a wounded soldier. You wouldn't leave me without giving me a little something to keep me going for the next several weeks."

"You're terrible. We might as well just have sex then."

"What a brilliant idea."

I wagged a finger at him as if he were a very naughty boy. "The answer is no, no, no."

He pressed his palms together – a sight that looked as amusing as it was sympathetic given his gauze-wrapped hand – and batted his eyelids. I pretended to swat him, and he deftly reached for me with his left hand, shifting my body alongside his and spooning me on the couch. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his right hand resting carefully on the couch. He layered kisses on the back of my neck that turned me inside out. He pushed my hair out of the way and traced his tongue lazily across my skin, over my earlobe, and down to my shoulder blade. He moved his hand to my waist, slipping his fingers underneath my sweater. I gave in to the feeling of his fingers dancing on the waistband of my jeans. His hand was warm, his skin was soft, and he felt amazing. I closed my eyes. "Good thing I'm left-handed," he said.

Even though I could feel the soft little hairs on my arms standing on end, I moved his hand off my belly. "Yes. That means you can use your left hand to work the TV remote." He heaved a long, laborious sigh of playful resignation.

"You have a will of steel, and it only makes me want to get you naked even more. But for now, I surrender. Want to watch a movie?"

"I'd love nothing more."

I handed him the remote and settled in next to him. We scrolled through the options on-demand, debating whether we wanted to see Pitch Perfect or Bridesmaids. Anna Kendrick was my girl crush, so that movie won. Plus, I didn't have to worry about whether that sexy scene where the cop and Kristen Wiig spend the night together would make me break my vow.

Besides, it was better this way, curled up and warm in his arms.

Chad looked out the window for a moment, at the dark of the night.

He turned back to me. The look in his blue eyes was intense and unreadable.

"What is it?"

"There's something I've always wanted to tell you."

"This can't be good."

"It's not bad, I swear." He placed his hands on his thighs. He parted his lips but didn't speak right away. I watched him as he fumbled for words. I watched his throat as he swallowed. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to hold my gaze, a tight sharp line between us. "Do you remember when you told me you loved me the first time?" That memory never hovered far from the surface. It was always there, waiting to be harnessed. How would anyone forget her first love not loving her back?

"Yes."

"And I didn't say it back. I said I have to go?"

"Do we need to re-enact it?" My face tightened, and I stared hard at the seat in front of me.

"No. Because it was a lie."

I turned back to him, as if he'd just spoken Russian. "What?"

"It was a lie," he repeated.

"Why?"

"I was crazy in love with you then. Just like I am now. I've always loved you. I never stopped."

My head was spinning. My heart was sputtering.

"Why did you say that then?"

"Because after we walked around NYU together all I could think was that I would be holding you back. That's why I was so quiet that day. I just kept thinking it would be wrong. That it would be unfair to you if you went to college and were already saddled with an older boyfriend. I wanted you to go to college, and meet other guys, and figure out what you wanted in life. I didn't want to be the guy who dragged you down. I didn't want you to go to college and feel burdened. I wanted you to experience life on your own terms. And I knew I was going to be leaving the country, and it seemed so unfair to you to ask you to wait for me. To be a long-distance girlfriend when I was off working." I scoffed. "So instead, you broke my heart."

"I know." He reached for my hand, and traced a line across my palm. His touch was so soft, but still I felt raw and exposed. "Forgive me for lying. Forgive me for breaking your heart."

I looked deeply into his eyes, pools of blue I could lose myself in. How I'd loved getting lost in him, and being found by him again. He leaned closer, pressed his forehead against mine, and took my hands in his. He whispered to me, his voice soft and full of brokenness, full of tenderness.

In some ways, this was what I'd always longed to hear. That he'd loved me then as I'd loved him. That it had never been one-sided.

Though in other ways, this admission was a wound re-opened in a new, fresh way. Because he'd thought he knew what was best for me. But he was wrong. Feeling so damn unwanted by my first love hadn't been good for me at all.

I pulled away from him. "I wish you had told me that back then. I wish you had let us make that decision together. Instead, you made me think you didn't love me, and it hurt so fucking much."

"I'm sorry, Sonny. I'm truly, truly sorry." He looked so anguished. But that didn't make my heart hurt any less, and it was aching right now.

"I feel like I was a girl in love with a boy who didn't care for her."

"He did and still cares for her." The words came from Chad. I turned to him, to look into his sea blue eyes with their hints of white. Those eyes practically infiltrated me with the way they knew me. "He always cared for her. He always loved her. He's madly in love with her. She's his Love, Actually. She's his Casablanca. She's the one he'd stop the bus for, the one he'd run through traffic for, the one he'd drive like a crazy man to the airport for and run through the terminal to stop the plane. Her name's above the title for him. She's the opening credit and the closing credit. She's the love of his life." Then in a voice so low only I could hear, he whispered forgive me.

"He is not a mistake then," I said

Chad caressed my cheek and kissed me gently as if I were his everything


	19. Loving Sonny

**Well… I can never be a writer of romances, I only write books on environment and I am happy with that career. I guess I really am older to be on a fanfiction site (: My girlfriend is from the United States and she would watch this show a lot and make me watch as well. I accidentally discovered this site. I wrote Moments, I showed the site to my girlfriend who writes for a local magazine. This is an inspired story from another source and she wrote it (I gave her ideas which she would never accept). I edit the chapters and post them, and I wrote two chapters too (: This story is somewhat like my real life, not entirely but a lil part of it is. **

**I am very thankful for all the favourites and reviews. And thank you R, hope you would like the further chapters**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chace**

I kept looking at Sonny. This girl is amazing and she is my girl.

"What?"

"You're beautiful Sonny, you are amazing. I love you."

"I love you too, Chad".

"Brains, talent, beauty, brilliance. Is there nothing you can't do?"

"Where did that come from?" I shrugged

"I'm not terribly good at cooking or gardening."

Then I turned serious and took her hands in mine "Sonny, I would cook and feed you"

"Can you cook?"

"No."

Sonny pulled my ear and said, "Chad, sometimes you are just too much but I like this side of you."

I reached for her hand. "Am I allowed to hold your hand? Or does that break the on ice rules?"

"I'll bend on this one for just a moment." I took her hand in mine.

"Would you bend on another one? Because I'd really like to kiss you right now." He gave no room to answer as he pulled me close and dusted his lips on me, leaving a soft, barely wet kiss.

"We should stop. We should be good."

"We should. But I'm crazy in love with you, and if it makes things better, I'll never stop telling you that. Besides, I have five years of feeling it but not saying it to make up for. So I'll say it again. I'm madly in love with you, Sonny Monroe."

"Fine," she said with a smile. "That earns you one more kiss."

I pressed my lips on hers, tracing them with my tongue in a way that made her shiver. Sonny looped her arms around me, underneath my jacket and against my shirt. I took a step or two until she met the railing on the bridge and leaned against it. I ran my hands through her hair, moving closer, as the space between us compressed. My body melted into hers and I inhaled her cool, clean skin. I wanted to feel her, touch her, taste her, and have her. I was crazy to be so close to her. I was foolish to ever think I could have resisted.

Maybe you could say I was selfish. Maybe you could say I was stupid. Maybe you could wonder why I didn't wait five more weeks.

All of that and more was true.

But I ceased caring. I stopped reasoning. I tossed the rules out the window and threw caution out of the balcony because I was with the only woman I'd ever loved.

I felt fluttery, twitchy, agitated. I didn't know if it was fear or desire. Either way, there was no turning back. I was going there with Sonny, going to wherever we were going. I didn't feel guilty, I didn't feel naughty, and I didn't feel wrong. I stepped into our future as I broke the kiss.

I moved my hand across her leg, my fingers dancing down to her inner thigh. She opened my legs a little bit, an inch or two, enough to let me know to keep going.

I didn't stop kissing me as I traced the outside of her panties. As I tasted the soft underside of her lips, I dipped my hand inside her panties, first pressing on her pubic bone, then making my way between her legs. I kissed her softly, while my fingers explored her, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. She barely moved for the next few minutes, except to subtly push against my hand as my fingers glided over her and inside her and around her. I traced her lightly at first, then harder pressing down, savouring how much my body wanted her.

"Please don't stop touching me."

"I have no intention of stopping."

"Keep touching me like that. I want to be kissing you while I come."

**Sonny's View:**

His hungry lips devoured me as he stroked me. My insides were lava, and my body ached for all of him. I wanted to fall away from his mouth, so I could moan, so I could sigh, so I could breathe heavily and say his name. But he kept kissing me, even as my lips fumbled at his, and I writhed, my breaths coming faster. He zeroed in and I bit gently into his lip, managing to gasp out the words I'm coming, as I finally let go of his lips.

I shuddered, and clasped his hand against me. I stayed there, basking in the aftershocks of the most intense pleasure, of the way the boy I'd fallen for, the man I loved, had brought me to this state. "You didn't stop kissing me the whole time and there I was, coming while you were kissing me. It was like my two favorite things at the same time."

"Good. Because there's a lot more on the menu tonight," he said

He stood behind me and ran his hands along my arms. He reached my hands, clasping my fingers in his and whispered in my ear. "Do you have any idea how much I want to make love to you right now?"

"How much?"

"More than I have ever wanted anything before." He swept my hair from my neck and kissed me there, sending tingles of insane pleasure down my spine. I understood the meaning of the word swoon — I had become the very definition. He walked me to the bed, and laid me down. He ran his hands up the inside of my legs. Every touch thrilled me.

Every second of contact sent me higher.

"You have far too many clothes on, Sonny."

"Take them off. Take them all off."

He unzipped my skirt, and gently removed it, placing it on the nearby chair. My sweater was next, and he made that groan I found so sexy when he saw me in only my bra and panties. Then it was my turn. I began on his shirt, enjoying the release of each button, as I trailed my hands down the white tee-shirt underneath. Soon, his shirt was off, then I pulled the tee-shirt over his head. I took a step back to admire him. His chest was broad and sturdy, his stomach flat and cut, his waist trim and exactly the kind I wanted to hold onto. I ran my teeth over my bottom lip as I looked at his pants, at how turned on he was.

He unhooked my bra, and touched my breasts in a way that made me even hotter for him, if that were possible. He kneeled down to strip off my underwear, then kissed my ankle and traced a line up my calf to behind my knee.

My insides were on fire. My body was a flame.

He pressed a palm gently against my belly, guiding me back onto the bed.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, as he returned to my thighs, grazing his tongue between my legs, tasting my desire for him.

I gasped in pleasure and arched against him, as he traced long, soft, lingering lines up and down.

"It's better than on the phone," I whispered between ragged breaths, as I grabbed at his soft, thick hair. I needed more. My body ached for his mouth on me. His firm hands hugged my thighs, and he made these sounds as if I were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.

The way he moved his tongue, the way his lips kissed me made me believe nothing else existed, and that this pleasure was all there was, it was all I felt, all I wanted. To be spread open to someone, to have his mouth devouring you, to say his name, and then to cry out in crazy ecstasy. Nothing could ever be better than this.

He moved up, and I was tipsy, buzzed from everything that was going on — the way he knew me, the way the secret treasure map to my body had been his to follow. He looked satisfied with his work as he began to unbuckle his pants.

I sat up to help. I was dying to see him fully naked. He stepped back from the bed, letting his pants fall down, then I pulled down his boxer briefs. God, he was beautiful, and carved, and hard as steel. My hand had a mind of its own and reached for him. He pressed his teeth against his lip, and cursed quietly in pleasure as I touched him.

Then he reached for a condom.

He hovered over me, and teased me with his kisses, keeping me on my back, brushing his lips across my lips, my cheeks, my eyelids, even the tip of my nose. I was startled that even a kiss on the nose felt good from him. Then again, everything felt good with Chad. I sighed as he kissed my neck and then threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling me close.

I lifted my hips to him.

"Tell me what you want, Sonny. I want to hear you say it."

"I want you to make love to me."

I didn't know if he knew how big a deal it was for me to say those words. I never said "make love" to anyone before. Not to any other guy. I'd never known what it was like to truly make love because Chad was the only person I'd ever loved, and I'd never been with him like this, like the way it seems on the silver screen, with the big love of your life. When young love and passion turn to smouldering tenderness in the sheets. The waiting, the wanting, the longing as bodies come together, skin against skin, nothing held back, no distance, no time, no pretending. It had always seemed so perfect, so epic, so out of this world.

Now, here I was, feeling more than I'd ever imagined.

I placed my hands on his firm, toned chest, tracing his skin, his muscles, searing them into my memory now that I finally could, now that I finally knew what he felt like. He parted my legs and entered me. I moaned as he filled me up.

Who said it was supposed to feel this good? But it did. Beyond any and all reason.

"You," he said, softly, looking at me.

"You."

He buried himself in me, and I was in another world, in another time. I was drowning in pleasure, swallowed whole by desire. I was all the air I'd ever breathed. I was the edge of reason, and nothing else existed but the feeling of him moving deep inside of me, his body touching mine at last. Heat rose in my chest, a fire radiating from the centre of my gut to the tips of my fingers, the far reaches of my eyelashes, and through to the inside and out of my heart, as if it might burst with all the feelings — love, lust, want, and then, most of all, ecstatic and utter happiness. Completeness. All-ness. I was lost, and then I was found, and I was suddenly aware of every sensation in my body. Of how he placed a hand on my hip, how his breath tasted good, how the soft little never shaven hairs on the backs of my thighs stood on end. I'd gone to heaven, only I was alive, and everything felt ravishing, as he plunged in me, gripped my wrists, and brought me there again.

And when it ended, when we lay there sated in bed, I outlined his body with my fingertips, planting little kisses across the hard planes of his belly, the firm muscles of his arms, the breadth of his chest that felt like home. We were silent for another moment, then I felt his hand slip into mine. It was the laughter, it was the movies, and it was the hero holding a boom box in the rain. I knew at this moment that a thing could be more perfect. I had always wanted to believe you could have love like in the movies. Now, I knew you could. It's not just Hollywood.

I could have this man for the rest of my life and never want for anything more.


	20. Finding a new Mentor

**My grassroots are UK but I have always lived in France and speak a fluent French and a messy English. The grammar is good here because my girl writes them and I guess I am not that bad at English (: **

**Didn't that avatar of mine tell you that I am guy? It's my pretty face in there, lol. Anyways, good luck with your examinations R (: **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

I was reading a book and Sonny was fidgeting with her jewellery.

"Something isn't working." Sonny said to herself.

Charms and trinkets were spread out on the tray table. She had aligned them along one of the silver chains.

I looked up from the book I was reading. "There's too much going on," she was still having a conversation with herself "They need to be simpler."

I grinned and returned to my book looking at her from the corner of my eye for a brief moment. I liked how she always works so hard on her every project and she is so cute in everything that she does.

Playing around with the design a bit more, she narrowed down the piece to a star, a key and a sun. She tapped me on the shoulder asking me to look at her bracelet.

"I like it better. The question is when you get this big order from Elizabeth's, how are you going to make them all?" Chad helped me get an order from Elizabeth, a luxury jewellery store

"Yeah. There is that." I'd been so focused on the designs and assembling the perfect prototype that I hadn't started to address the nuts and bolts. Soon, I'd have to. "I've always just made them myself."

"You could keep doing that. If there were ten or twenty of you and several machines to help out as well."

"Oh, ha ha."

"No, I'm serious. You can't be grassroots much longer, Sonny."

"I have to land the deal first." she moved a star trinket to another position on the strand. But it still didn't look right to her. "Crap."

I placed my hand gently on hers.

"Hey." Sonny exclaimed.

Her agitation started to fade with my touch.

"You know, Sonny. I happen to know this guy who runs a similar business. Makes gift items.

Some hand-crafted, some machine-assisted. The products get rave reviews, and the business is growing like crazy. He knows how to manufacture something at scale and still make sure it's beautiful and has a personal touch. Perhaps, I could see if he'd be willing to accommodate your new line of necklaces at his factory?" She looked at me, wide-eyed and open-jawed.

"You'd do that? How much would it cost me?" I laughed.

"First of all, of course I'd do it.

Why would I not? Second, don't worry about the cost."

"You can't just give me something for free because…" she let her voice trail off.

"Because? Because we're back to not seeing each other for another four weeks.

"Not that."

I put the tip of my index finger on the star trinket and pushed the star aside. I moved the other charms too. Then I pushed the mini skeleton key to the centre of the chain.

"Not for free. I have a proposition for you." I told her my idea.

She nodded appreciatively. "That's not a bad idea but I got to go and get ready for the University."

"So I'll see you in a month." I said

"So this is it." Sonny and I decided that I cannot be her mentor or she will be in trouble. She will talk to Professor Oliver about it.

My stomach twisted into knots, and I took a deep breath as I knocked on my professor's door. It was open, and he was waiting for me.

I'd called earlier to request the meeting so I wouldn't back down when I arrived.

He gestured for me to come in. My boots clacked loudly on the tiled floor of the office.

"Have a seat, Ms. Monroe. Good to see you.

How is everything going this semester with Made Here? We only have a few more weeks left, but the reports have been good, so I'm pleased."

I gathered up all my courage. My shoulders rose and fell, and then I started. "I wanted to let you know that during the course of the semester and the time with Made Here, I have fallen in love with Chad Dylan Cooper. Well, I suppose you could say I've fallen in deeper with him because I was already in love with him five years ago and didn't stop."

Professor Oliver looked at me quizzically and narrowed his eyebrows. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

I steeled myself to say the words without tripping on them. I was clinical and business-like as I laid my confession bare. "I was involved with him when I was younger, and I'm also involved with him now. I could tell you that we tried to stop. That we tried to deny it. That we tried not to see each other. That we tried to wait until the mentorship was over. I could tell you how important this class is to me. I could tell you how badly I want to graduate. I could tell you how much Chad values his company's relationship with the school. Those would all be true. But what's also true is that I broke your rule about being involved with your mentor.

And because of that I don't think he should be my mentor anymore."

He nodded several times with pursed lips that formed a scowl. "I see."

He picked up a pencil from his desk and began twirling it. Thumb to forefinger. Thumb to forefinger. Again and again. After several perfectly executed twirls, he put the pencil down, and looked at me.

"It would seem you have a problem then, Ms. Monroe. You no longer have a mentor. Without a mentor, you cannot pass this class. Without this class, you cannot graduate."

I later met Professor Oliver's wife Kate that day in a coffee shop. I have met her before and she always appreciates my jewellery designs. She called me and I joined her and told her everything, including how her husband had the no hanky-panky warning posted on his Web site.

She cackled when she heard that. "I had no idea. Really? It says no hanky panky?" I grabbed my phone, and tapped in his URL, showing her the screen.

She laughed even harder. "He's one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

"I was his student. He's such a hypocrite."

"Really?"

Even as my future with her circled the drain, I couldn't help but join her in peals of laughter that echoed around the cafe. The couple at the table next to us peered over.

"You were his student?"

"Yes. I wasn't even his protégé. I was his actual student fifteen years ago when I went to NYU, and he was teaching management skills. Some management skills. He fell in love with his student while he was teaching her. For him to post that about no hanky panky is incredibly amusing. But those are his rules. And I respect them. And you must abide."

I nodded, a heaviness in my chest. I'd have to start over in my quest to help my parents. I pushed my chair away from the table, stood up, and offered her a hand to shake.

She waved me off. "This is what you've learned at business school? This is what you've learned from me?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're just going to give up?"

"I'm not going to be able to finish this class."

She pointed to my chair. "Sit back down." Her voice was commanding, imperious even. I immediately followed her order.

"In business school, did you learn that there is more than one way to solve a business problem?"

"Sure."

"And would you say you have a business problem?"

"I suppose you could say that."

"Then, think about another way around this. Think about what you need, truly need, to finish your experiential learning class."

I needed a rewind button. I needed to have better tunnel vision. I needed to have self-restraint.

She kept speaking. "You need a mentor." She waved a bejewelled hand airily. I bet she could cut the glass door off in seconds with the size of that ring.

"But that's the problem, Mrs Oliver. I don't have a mentor anymore."

She gestured to herself. "Am I chopped liver?"

I flinched from surprise. "What?" It came out like a stutter.

"I'd like to think I've been somewhat instrumental in your hands-on business learning this semester."

I leaned forward, still not sure if she was truly serious, or if I could even pull this off. The class called for us to be paired with business leaders who ran actual companies. She seemed more of a benefactor, a generous angel investor.

"You would do that, Mrs Oliver? I mean, Kate."

She took a sip of her espresso. "You call me Kate. But I have another name as well. I don't go by it often, and I don't really let many people know my other name. But the reason I am sure we can get these designs into Elizabeth's stores is because I am Elizabeth Mortimer, and as the head of Elizabeth's I would be delighted to finish out the semester as your mentor." Fairy godmother, I'd say.

I raced back to NYU. The cab pulled up to the curb and I thrust several dollars in the driver's hand, and pushed hard on the door. I ran up the marble steps to Professor Oliver's office.

He had office hours now, and was finishing up with another student.

I paced as I waited for the guy to leave. I reviewed my speech in my head, still marvelling that Kate Oliver was Elizabeth Mortimer, head of the luxury department store chain that wanted to carry my designs. There was only one obstacle in the way — her husband.

The other student left, and I rushed to the door, then knocked.

"Hello again, Ms. Monroe."

He gestured to the same chair I'd sat in hours ago.

"If you've come to convince me to bend the rules, I should warn you, I'm not known for my mercy." He spoke the last words with a smile on his face, but he was deadly serious. His kind manner could never be mistaken for leniency.

I shook my head. "I wouldn't ask you to do that. Instead, I wanted to present a different solution. You said I needed a mentor to pass this class. Mentors are business leaders who are alumni. I don't have one now, but I've been working closely this semester with a businesswoman named Elizabeth Mortimer. You might know her. She runs the Elizabeth's stores. And via that relationship, I have gained two rounds of seed funding, an investment to fund design research, and a distribution deal in those department stores. Ms. Mortimer has guided me on design styling, as well as offering insight into the best direction for my business."

"Elizabeth Mortimer, you say?" He seemed amused.

"Yes. She is a very sharp businesswoman."

"So I've heard. And it sounds like she has indeed been influential in your growth and development, Ms. Monroe. But part of the requirement for the class is that the protégés help the business leaders solve real-world business challenges. How have you done that?" His normally chipper voice was laced with scepticism.

I thought of the conversation a few weeks ago when Kate, aka Elizabeth, had first presented the opportunity. "The Elizabeth's stores need a jewelry line to focus their holiday marketing around. Elizabeth had been looking for a new style to draw attention. She loved my designs.

I've also been able to line up a manufacturing partner to have them made in time. It'll be a fast turnaround, but we can pull it off, and with her marketing and with my manufacturer's savvy, I think we will have solved not only business problems, but provided an answer to the age-old question at holiday time — what do I buy for the woman I love?"

Professor Oliver pursed his lips and nodded a few times. "And Ms. Mortimer is open to this?" I found it odd that we were discussing Ms. Mortimer as if she were not his wife. I supposed that was part and parcel of her veiled identity though. She wanted to be both Mrs. Kate Oliver and Ms. Elizabeth Mortimer.

"Yes. She would be willing to step in officially as my mentor for the rest of the term. So I will have Chad Dylan Cooper for the first few months, and Ms. Mortimer to finish out the term. And, to be quite honest, that seems rather fitting for my business. Both have helped me tremendously to grow and expand My Favorite Mistakes. And I have, in turn, helped both of their businesses, as you know from the reports." He removed his glasses, picked up a white cloth from his desk, and cleaned the lenses. When the glasses were free of fingerprints, he put them back on. "Ms. Monroe, has anyone ever told you that you're not too shabby at negotiation?" He cracked a grin, and extended his hand. "Welcome back. I trust there will be no hanky-panky with Ms. Mortimer as you finish out the term?"

"None, sir."

"Good. I do have a suggestion now for your business. Perhaps it's time to move beyond the name My Favorite Mistakes since your business is moving beyond that idea."

"What do you think would be a good name?"

"Seeing as I suspect you have a rather bright future in front of you as a jewelry designer, I would suggest a simple name. I would suggest your name. That is what all the fashion icons do. I think your customers will soon want to give and to wear Alison necklaces." I smiled. "It has a nice ring to it."

**Only one more chapter left to the story. Please review the chapter**


	21. The Gift

**I do not look like that Hemsworth or any actor. I look like a photographer which I am. There will be no sequel to it but I guess you will like Hired Girlfriend (:**

**The final chapter to the story. I hope you like it (: and I shall post Hired Girlfriend very soon. I have written that story and got it edited by my girlfriend**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sonny with a Chance**

"Close your eyes."

Chad pressed his palms over my eyes as we reached the block with my parent's store.

"No, I won't. What if I trip?" I asked trying to remove his hands from my eyes

"Close your eyes Sonny, don't you worry."

"Oh, I wasn't worried."

"Just keep them closed."

"Since your hands are covering them, it's safe to say I can't see a thing. So don't let me trip." "I won't."

He guided me along the sidewalk. I smelled the sea air, and it reminded me of long, lazy summer days here in Mystic. It reminded me of summer nights years ago falling in love. Right now with December upon us, the air smelled of pine and freshly falling snow. A few flakes drifted down from the darkening afternoon sky, promising a night by a warm fire and blankets of white in the morning.

I graduated two days ago. There was little fanfare, as is the custom with a business school graduation. I simply finished my exams, checked my grades online, and verified that I had, in fact, attained my MBA. The first person I called was Kate, who I now thought of as a super hero with a secret identity. She congratulated me and informed me that my necklaces were faring well the first week in her stores. The My Favorite Mistakes line was still selling online and in boutiques, but the Elizabeth's customers favoured my simpler styles. Rather than a star, a key and a sunburst jammed on one necklace, they were opting for single pendants, and embracing the European look of the charms. Of course, there were shoppers too with quirkier taste, and for those the cat and dog charms appealed. Still others with a vintage flare liked the cameos and brooches. "Be charmed with a Alison necklace," Claire pronounced.

"That's the tagline."

I'd have to remember to thank my parents for giving me a name that lent itself so well to jewelry, especially since I was starting to make real money from my work. I planned to pay off their loan in a few weeks from the revenue.

"Almost there."

I held my hands in front of me, purple mittens keeping me warm. We passed the cafe. I could hear the bell on the door jingle when someone came out, and the tell-tale scent of coffee trailed behind.

"Here we are."

I stumbled at the sight. He grabbed my elbow to keep me from slipping. Not only had Mystic Landing been transformed for the holidays, it had been totally transformed. As in a makeover and a facelift. There was a new sign made out of brushed metal, pretty window displays that married a sleek to a retro design, and a glass door that had been spruced up with the name of the store painted in my favorite colour purple.

He held open the door, and I wandered inside, mesmerized by the changes, my eyes the size of saucers. The old beige Berber rug had been replaced by a warm cranberry carpet. The standard wooden shelves and displays had been extradited, and instead the frames and mugs, the books and cards, the vases and other gifts for sale were displayed on high and low wooden tables, some modern, and some antique-y. It was the perfect mix of old rustic charm that had made this place a centrepiece of the town for many years, and a new twist to send the store into the future.

But that wasn't all. The kitschier items — the little tchotchkes and such — had been banished. In their place were classier wares, small pitchers in brushed metal, a cute pink pot for making sauces, wine glasses with clever patterns on them. My favorite display was the 'his and her' gift set, courtesy of Made Here and Sonny Monroe — a vintage key necklace coupled with a set of cufflinks fashioned from the padlocks from the lover's bridge in Paris. It turned out Chad and I were a good pair at a lot of things, including business partnerships.

The chance to market this line of gifts together was Chad's proposition — that was all he wanted when he said I could make my necklaces at his factory. It was too good an offer to pass up.

My mom waved to me, and so did my dad.

But neither one of them rushed over. They were too busy ringing up customers, and that made me so happy. Chad had once said that maybe there was another solution to the store's woes. It seemed he was right.

I turned to him. "Is my jaw on the floor right now?"

"Something like that." He grinned, big and wide, and like he had a secret up his sleeve.

"Did you do this?"

He gave me a sheepish shrug. "This is the project I had been busy with you. I told you before." I am falling more for him every day.

"But how?" I knew he'd been out to visit the store and check things out. He'd told me that. He told me too that he was helping my parents figure out some new inventory plans. But this? "That's what I was up to. It's a surprise. For you." "You did all this?"

He nodded.

"They let you?"

My parents were so stoic about taking help from me. I couldn't imagine they'd accept it from Chad, even if he was the boyfriend of their daughter.

"They did."

"But how did you convince them?"

"I told them I wanted to do it as a gift to you." "And that was all it took?"

I eyed him sceptically. These were my parents we were talking about. There was a lull in the action at the counter and my parents came over, giving me quick hugs. My dad clapped Chad on the back. They all looked like they had secrets too.

"Sort of." Chad glanced from my mom to my dad. They were both smirking.

"The floor is yours," my father said, and took a step back, placing his arm around my mom, as if they were giving him space for something.

"What is it?"

"Well, see," Chad said, and I noticed the tiniest bit of red in his cheeks. He was nervous.

"It's really daunting being in love with a jewelry designer. You can't really get her a necklace or earrings or even a ring to show your love, because chances are she has her own ideas in all those areas and might be a little particular. So this — "he spread his arms out to indicate the revitalization of the store "— is my gift to you.

But it's more like a promise. It's a promise that I don't want to be your favorite mistake. That I want to be your forever mistake, if you'll have me." My heart stopped for a moment, and I couldn't move, or form words.

"What I'm really trying to say is I don't ever want to lose you again. Now that I have you, I want to be with you always. Will you be mine?"

He bent down on one knee and my heart nearly stopped. But then he reached for his wallet. I raised an eyebrow, curiously, as I watched.

He removed a tiny white bag that looked so familiar.

"You might remember the day I bought this.

Back at a little shop in the Village with you. I've kept it since then. In my wallet, in this bag, for five years. I got it for you then and planned to give it to you as a promise. It's just a little thing, but you always said it was a life-long kind of love you had for the cartoon cat."

He reached into the bag and handed me a sparkly Hello Kitty ring, the same one I'd admired so many years ago.

"You kept this for five years?"

"Inside my wallet every single day. Sonny, it's always been you for me. Always."

I grabbed his hand and pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around him.

"I'll buy you a real ring," he said. "But I want you to design it, okay?"

I nodded.

"So, this is a yes?"

Rays of happiness burst from my chest.

"I'm yours. I always have been. I always will be."

Then I kissed him, and though his kisses had always made me melt, this kiss was the very best of all. Because it was a new beginning.

Here in my home away from home, in the town where I grew up, we'd come back to each other, and we weren't ever going to let go.

**The End.**


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